


A Devil's Cage: Prison

by angel939



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Devil May Cry
Genre: Anal Sex, Anger, Angst, Blood and Gore, Boys Kissing, Brotherhood, Cannibalism, Dark, Day At The Beach, Demonic Possession, Demons, Devils, Dogs, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Escape, Family, Fantasy, Fear, Fire, Fluff and Smut, Forbidden Love, Freedom, Friendship, Hope, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, Isolation, Loss of Control, Love/Hate, Lust, Marking, Masturbation, Mental Anguish, Minor Character(s), Multi, Murder, Mutual Masturbation, Nightmares, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Ocean, Oral Sex, Pain, Prison, Protective Siblings, Protectiveness, Psychological Drama, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rescue Missions, Riots, Romance, Sakura (Cherry Blossoms), Sexual Tension, Sibling Incest, Succubi & Incubi, Suffering, Suicidal Thoughts, Suspense, Swearing, Tears, Torture, Twincest, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Violence, Weapons, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-09 07:29:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 197,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3241397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel939/pseuds/angel939
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nero is facing life imprisonment and is on his way to jail. What is his crime and can he face the repercussions? All is not as it seems inside this steel cage and things will take an interesting turn when he crosses paths with mysterious twins - Dante and Vergil. Can they form an unlikely alliance with a rookie warden (Leon) to survive this hell together? AU - <br/>Disclaimer: All character's belong to Capcom except for my delicious villain and cons. The story also belongs to me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Desolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone and welcome to a Devils Cage: Prison. I will only write a short summary at the start of the first chapter. This is my third story and is the one which has left me most conflicted. When I first started writing this fiction it was my good intention to write purely about friendship and brotherhood but love naturally came into play. Before you can enter these dark cells please forget the game plots, our story will revolve around an alternative universe.
> 
> The most intriguing and gripping aspect of this fiction is the interaction between the characters, they are complex and driven by their own flaws, desires and motivations. Add a creepy villain into the mix and you have the perfect start to another painful and unpredictable journey. Nero is the first to enter the jail and we will begin the saga with his eyes, as he searches his own soul for the answers behind his current predicament.
> 
> Follow up note: A big thanks to Tweese for taking the time out to draw this epic picture of our gorgeous prisoners:  
> http://deadxnurse.deviantart.com/art/A-Devil-s-Cage-Prison-587815970

He was gazing out of the window, soft blue eyes taking in the barren earth, endless barbed wire, a desolate place at the furthest end of civilisation. Guess he would fit right in. The bus rolled over a large rock. Nero lifted his head away from the window to inspect the individuals seated around him, ugly inmates of all ages, colours, and races, all clothed in orange uniforms. Contracting his clawed hand he adjusted the strappings casing his forearm. An overweight guy with tattoos on his head elbowed his skinny friend sitting a few seats in front of him, his chubby hand caressing the guys shoulder, but his beady eyes were undressing him, as he continually watches. They have been travelling for the last hour but his shady eyes have never left Nero's good-looking face. Fortunately he didn't have to share a seat with some other asshole but this fat bitch was beginning to piss him off. The big guy grinned and pointed straight at him.

"That one is mine".

Nero lifted his middle finger in reply, meeting his lustful stare with contempt, "fuck you", revolted.

The fat guy leered and licked his lips. "You can put that hand to good use soon, cutie".

Nero looked away repulsed, "don't worry fat ass I fucking will".

The handcuffs were digging into his skin he could break free if he wanted to, but he wouldn't. Nero knew he never belonged with humans, was nothing like them, and deserved to be contained for the monster he had become. Prison was his best option for wanting unending suffering. There was no return. Nero gazed out to find her standing there, white top and pink skirt so out of place in the bare landscape. A white ball clutched tightly, she shields her eyes and waves at him. Bare feet muddied, ponytail gusting in the breeze. It was the first time they had met in that run down orphanage, both just 6 years old and alone in the world. Chafing the side of his reddened cheek as the bus comes to a halt outside the large black gates. An officer clad in black uniform stands up, folds his arms and shouts the command.

"All right assholes, I want one straight fucking line when you get out".

Nero's jaw tightened. He had never done any time in prison and was in for life. The judge had condemned him on his twentieth Birthday. He breathed and stood up slowly as they made their way out. The tubby guy was breathing down his neck and gripped his shirt.

"Hope your sharing with me darling. I will look after you".

Nero stopped and turned around soaring over fatty who smiled at him, Nero smirked and head-butted him. The man grumbled in pain and toppled backwards onto his scrawny acquaintance, head split open, overflowing with blood. Nero made his way out and joined the rest of the convicts as they stood in a straight line. Two officers were patrolling the rooftops heavily armed with sniper rifles. This was a special prison for the worst kind of criminals who didn't deserve a second chance. The plump guy was being helped out of the bus by his friend, glaring at Nero making his smile widen. The officer scowled and overlooked his wringing wound, chatting to a bulky guard patrolling the latest arrivals.

The bus started to drive away and Nero contemplated the firmaments. They were grey. He could overhear the thunder in the remoteness. It was his last day of freedom. The thought broke his heart. It started to rain. The outset of cold droplets landed on his pale skin and he barred his eyes to their gentle textures. These showers would incessantly endure to remind Nero…of her. She loved these cascades, their rhythms, their stillness, and armistice as they fell charitably from the skies. How many cold nights had they endured on the roads or ridges falling asleep to this sound? Nero would armour her figure with his devil bringer while she slept. No matter how exhausted his arm became he would always protect…her. A part of him knew she didn't belong with him. She was too good for him, yet he held hope that one day…one day those brown eyes would hold love for him.

"Nero, we will always have each other. I will never leave your side", she murmurs in the wind.

They started to make their way inside. Nero would die behind these walls, the rapid comprehension that he had fucked up his own life. He followed the other inmates and they came to the first check-point. Five heavily armed guards were waiting behind a caged door, one of them a super lean officer in his early thirties gestured with his hand to step forward, harsh green eyes, a broad forehead and thin lips. Something about him was making Nero's skin crawl. He inspected his name badge, Officer Philip Robertson.

"Strip", he ordered, voice deep.

Nero held up his wrist and slanted his head. The officer gripped his hands and took off the cuffs. Folding his arms and standing directly in front of Nero who stepped back to create distance between them. Slipping off his shoes first, pants and shirt trailed, standing nude. The cement floor was cold and the officer reviewed his body strictly, green eyes slowing down on his chest and devil arm, blonde brows marginally crinkled. Robertson jabbed the rare scales, strangely unfazed by them.

"You got a skin defect?"

Nero stroked the scales with his human hand and met the guards stare. "Skin condition", he spat.

It had always been the unchanged retort; this fucked up arm was a rare skin disease. It would fit right in with the rest of these dirty beasts. The blonde officer met his gaze and stepped back to communicate with the other guard who removed him to have his first shower. It was cold water being ejected from a large pipe. It reminded him of a fire hose. Teeth chattering, hair tangled to his forehead as he held his torso and gawked at the floor. Nero knew this place would be his new hell. Having been raised on the streets he only knew two things. One, never trust anyone, two, to follow his instincts. She was his strength, his reason for living this miserable life, the reason for his existence, his hope, his love, his dreams, for a better life. Nero had murdered her in cold blood. Another officer nudged him hard with his baton snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Get moving", annoyed.

Shower done they walked him to an alternative chamber. A chubby dark haired officer handed him his new clothes, toothbrush, plastic cup and blanket. Nero changed into the faded grey penitentiary uniform. The officer logged his few belongings, some cash and a few photos of her. She was beautiful. His hand moved towards the picture and someone thumped their hand over it. It was the blonde officer.

"You don't get to see this shit again until you're an old man".

Robertson's voice was challenging, eyes assessing Nero's reaction, testing him, trying to find a weakness. It had always been anger, isn't that why he was here? His rage had caused his demise. Nero let go of the photo and stepped away compliantly. The officer nodded his head in approval.

"This is maximum security, keep up with the rules and you will do just fine".

The officers jaded judgements locked onto Nero's who noticed the small scar on his right cheek. It looked like a knife mark and he gazed down. Once finished here they took him to a separate room where his lawyer Steve was waiting patiently. He walked in and sat down across the small table, resting his hands on his lap.

"Nero we don't have much time. They gave me 10 minutes for this meeting and..."

Nero cut him off, "where is she buried?"

Steven moaned and opened his black briefcase, an inexperienced and struggling young lawyer. Italian heritage gave him his good looks. Full brows, dark eyes, brown hair cut short. Adjusting his designer frames and sighing. Still clad in the same black suit he had worn to court. The white shirt had been stained by the 8th coffee of the day.

"In the local cemetery where you asked, a private ceremony it was...quiet."

Steven gazed at Nero with concern that looked away and tapped the table with his claws. He felt a weight being lifted away from his shoulders. Kyrie had chosen that place. Nero stood up to leave and Steven's forehead furrowed.

"Wait Nero we need to talk".

Nero walked out without another word. There was no need for a lawyer. He wasn't going to appeal his case and was ready to face the aftermaths. There was no way out, resigned to his terrible fate. He had fucked up. There was nothing to live for. Sweeping his hair down, he tracked the unfriendly guard. They hadn't offered him any food or supervision, he didn't care. Everything was already on lock down and they walked him down a set of corridors. Each one was a steel cage patrolled by comprehensively guarded men. They came to the main cells and he walked through. Nero could feel their lusty predacious eyes on him, being the new fish they would test him the same way the guards would, to use him for personal gain or make his life a living hell. Prison was about breaking your soul. He was ready. A part of him was afraid, but he would never admit it.

Some of the men hooted. Others were talking in hushed tones. Their interest piqued by the young good-looking man with extraordinary white hair. Yet he wasn't the only one they had seen with these unique features. The jailbirds had their eyes set on a set of twins that had arrived early sunrise. They had never seen such handsome men afore. Their eyes had lingered on them but they had held an air of arrogance and danger. Maybe this one would make for an easier target. After all, they had each other, he was completely alone.

All three of them would have to be initiated tonight and they knew they would get a share of the indulgences. The beast who ruled these cells always preyed on his victims at night, a heartless and brutal murderer going by the name of Akira. Even the guards were afraid of him and his influences in the external world. He had the keys to each cell and would be making a private visit. The younger one would be his first interest, and the first to suffer his cruelty personally. The delicious twins would just have to wait for another night.


	2. The Introductions

The guard unlocked the cell doors and Nero glanced at the tiny bunk bed, gnashing his teeth with anxiety. He was hoping he wouldn't be sharing with anyone, wishful thinking. It was pitch-black since the lights were out. His unwanted cellmate was already asleep on the top bunk. The warden pushed Nero inside with his baton to get a better viewing of the asphyxiating space. They had no room to move, the area was so confined and narrow. The teen sat down on the lower bunk and placed the blanket and toothbrush on the flimsy mattress, his elongated legs latent on the wall. They had one small stained toilet to share and a white sink, which was it.

The officer updated, "breakfast is at 8, be ready and clean up the cell for check-up at 7:45", glancing at the slumbering man. They had no choice but to separate the identical brother's. It would have caused too much confusion to keep them in the same cell, locking-up and leaving to patrol the corridors.

Nero heaved a soft sigh and lay down on the stiff bed. He was fatigued, eyeing the toilet, face flushed. He couldn't believe he would to be taking a piss and shit with a random man overhead. The thought put him off using it until he could muster the courage to do so. Staring vacantly outside the cell, they were caged like animals. The corridors painted an ugly green, overhearing the guard's footsteps as they traversed the iron staircases. The cell was icy. The man on top was either asleep or dead. He couldn't even catch his breathes. Nero turned over, brows wrinkly. He hadn't eaten anything for a full day and he had no hunger, shutting his eyes. Kyrie's eyes widen, as his claw curls around her slim neck. Her eyes never leave his aggrieved and distressed face as he leans into her lips and caresses them lovingly. Smile widening as he devil triggers crushing her windpipe, her brown hair dwindling gently against his hand. A tear left her eye and her head limped onto his shoulder.

"Nero", she echoes into his ear.

Tortured eyes flying open, he was covered in sweat, breathing erratic. He wiped his face and placed his hand over his heart, reminding it was just another nightmare, the dark room coming into view. A tear escaped his eye and he bit his full lips to suppress his cries. The gentleman on top stirred for the very first time. The movement caught him by surprise and he positioned the blanket over his grief-stricken face. There was no fucking seclusion in this shithole like he had hoped, feeling his throat and chest tighten. Why hadn't he died that day? Eyes narrowed in fury, his bastard devil-side had kept him alive.

Nero heard footsteps approaching their cell, lowering the blanket when he caught the doors opening. Before he could react he was struck hard in the chest. He coughed and was seized by four men. They hauled him out of bed and pinned him to the stony floor. One of them was resting his elbow to the back of his neck as the others held him down. The teen gazed up as a tall man sauntered inside. His long black hair was tumbling past his shoulders. This man was in his early thirties. The dark eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips were incompatible, movements feminine, like his face, refuting his hulking body. He kneeled and started to stroke Nero's tresses sympathetically.

The youth growled, "don't…fucking touch me, asshole!"

Nero was controlling his devil side. If it was set free here he knew he would slaughter these men in cold blood. It was a monster that he would have to possess unseen, buried inside of him. This is why he wanted to cut himself off from the human world. No one was safe when he was around, for he had no switch and neither control, not after that day. The man grinned flashing his perfect white teeth. Nero glared, the strange man was barefooted, had no tattoos, and held intellect in his devious stare. Seating cross-legged he sustained to caress Nero's cheek making him bite into his lips in rage. The man beamed and unrelentingly aggravated the adolescence until his eyes fell on the top bunk. Smile vanishing as he stood up sluggishly. Nero was still struggling with the four men.

The persecutors voice was discreet and snooping, "they moved you away from your brother?"

The hushed man on the bunk snubbed, refusing an answer and intriguing the one prying. "We are just planning on having some fun with the youth. We would like to do the two of you together, tomorrow. Twins are a rare treat and it has really been one of my warmest caprices for a trio". Placing a yearning thumb over his lips and winking. The man didn't reply back, uninspired, making his harasser pout.

Nero didn't want to lose control, "get off!" he warned, trying to block the anger which was about to erupt, chest heaving.

Kyrie encouraged, inspecting his scraped cheek. "Nero if you lose your temper count to ten".

Nero smeared his runny nose. "Easy for you to say, they don't call you a f-fe-eak!"

Kyrie tightened her pigtail, reaffirming, "they are the freaks…not you", she hated bullies.

Nero unlocked his eyes when they slid off his pants. He thrust the guy hard in the gut and punched another in the face. He strained to stand but tripped over his own pants that were tangled around his ankles. A man jumped him from behind and punched him in the back of his head. Three of them started to kick him mercilessly. He covered his body with his arms but they continued to kick him in the face and head, like a bunch of demented fiends. Nero realised that being locked in this place for so long left nothing of their humanity, nose and mouth bleeding severely as he lay unmoving. They stopped their attacks and dragged his lifeless figure by one leg.

Akira watched the scuffle with a look of irrelevance. He was bored to death of these games but he wanted to continue his strict introduction policies with the newbies. Plus he really liked this one and so would mark him as his own so no other would touch him. The game would commence by breaking his spirit and making him his plaything, readily. After that he would discard him and move onto to someone fresh and new and thus the game would begin again. Nevertheless, why was the uncompliant man on the bunk proving to be such a big distraction? Akira inched closer to him as he pretended to feign sleep. The grin returning as he reviewed the boy's badly beaten face.

Akira signalled "turn him around".

Pulling down his pants, he slithered on top of Nero's frame. The other guys stepped back to watch. Nero tried to drag himself away, crawling a few inches before another con stepped on his neck. This was the fat guy he had butted this morning. He groaned and closed his eyes.

Akira whispered sadistically. "Sit still and it'll be over quickly".

Eyes fixated on the bunk as he rubbed his hardened cock up and down over the soft entrance before him, "juicy".

Nero's eyes widened in trepidation, "get the fuck off me", he roared.

The sound sent a vibration through the metal barricades and the other men paced back in tremor. The fat guy lifted his foot away and sprung into the wall. Akira was unfazed, his hands slid over Nero's devil arm and he gripped it behind his back.

"I said, sit still…devil", hissing.

Dipping his tongue inside Nero's ear, who felt a shudder down his spine? The tongue had been snake like and Nero was shaken. This man holding him down was not human, sickened. The other men were still gazing at him tensely.

Akira yanked the teens hair, "relax boy's and enjoy the show", asserting dominance and control.

Nero was nearing his trigger. He couldn't see or hear anything. Only the sound of his heart as it pumped his blood at the fury he was feeling. These men wouldn't see the light of day. Let me in Nero, you know you need me. His devil had awakened and was trying to control him again. Nero would never give it control. He would never lose his senses to his darker powers, for he hated his devil more than himself. Folding his fingers into a fist, teeth clamped to block out his alluring voice. Your weak, I am your true strength, I rule your mind and heart, I am the one that ends your suffering. That pathetic girl was your only weakness and I killed her for you. Let me in Nero. Your one and only friend in this world, all we have are each other in this life and in the next. I am closest to your heart, I see you for what you really are. Let me...in.

"Count to ten, Nero", Kyrie was holding up her tiny fingers.

This beautiful girl was the only one who could control his anger and he had destroyed her. He had no one left to turn to, barring his eyes. Nero counted in hushed whispers.

"One, two...three", he felt the man's hard cock penetrating his body. His eyes flashed crimson as the other guys started to jerk-off around him.

"Four, five..." he slanted his head. The man on the bunk was watching too. He could feel his concentrated eyes neurotic over his tormented face.

"Six... seven...eight", he couldn't control the darkness.

Eyes half-closed to unleash hell when she stood up, Kyrie was afraid of his devil, hands upraised to shield her eyes. She doesn't want to see him trigger, she had become afraid of him. Nero was her protector, yet she didn't fear anything else more than him. She had beheld his ruthlessness and seen the blackness in his heart. Those brown eyes had only seen his devil once and he had slaughtered her.

Nero cried he didn't want her to leave. "It's OK, don't be afraid".

His human hand strained. She peeked slowly sliding her hands away and crouching next to him. Kyrie gripped his trembling fingers. His wrath worn, smiling, she was the only one who hadn't been afraid of his devil arm.

"I will never hurt you...again", he mouthed.

Memorising the first day they had met. He had sat under the only cherry blossom tree in front of the run down orphanage. It must have been a hundred years old, its trunk dense, flowers subsiding softly against the breeze. Nero was tearing his flesh and trying to remove the scales on his devil arm, he hadn't even noticed her. She came running towards him and gripped his bloody hands.

"What are you doing, you're hurting yourself", her voice timid.

He gazed at her in shock, her long brown eyelashes almost kissing her cheeks, he was only 6. No one had ever dared come this close to him before. It was strange to find her warm hand resting on his skin. Her gentle touch had left him speechless. Nero had never seen her before.

Choking on the words, "I...want this gone".

Kyrie inspected his skin with curiosity, but she never let go of his clawed hand. Her eyes vibrant and she sat down next to him. His skin was slowly healing but she wasn't frightened. They sat together in silence. It was the first time he had detected how beautiful the canopies of the tree were, how the pink petals resembled rain and the colour of her cheeks and lips. How another person's touch and warmth could paint the world in new colours.

She broke the silence. "It's a part of you...you need to keep it".

They had run away together. He had promised to keep her safe. For years he had, it was love. He had never imagined he would have someone like her in his life. Without her by his side he would have died. Everything he did, he did it for Kyrie. They had never been able to find a home and had lived on the streets, sometimes going days without food, but it didn't matter, they had each other. They had been sleeping in the park that day. The homeless shelter was full for the night. They had nowhere else to go.

The men were drunk. They tried to touch her. The men had tried to hurt her. Her eyes filled with terror. He fought them; he held back his anger and fought them off but they were too strong. They kissed her, pinned her down, anger erupting like a nomadic whisper, soft as the wind, an instinct, a moment of calm, as his devil arm started to pulse blue. The colour soothing until it flashed red. He fell to his knees, her eyes widened in horror. His eyes flashed crimson. He was surrounded by a red glow, his denim jacket, blue jeans engulfed in firestorms…bloodbath.

"No Nero", she screamed but it was too late.

The whisper to come into the darkness was tempting, it always had been. With age the voice of his devil grew stronger, bitter, and more venomous. The world was a cold place that could break your soul. His life had been hard and full of disappointment. Nero had smiled that day and let loose his hate. He had killed them with his bare hands, torn them, limb to limb. She was afraid. Her white dress covered in the men's blood. She had cowered behind a tree.

"Kyrie", he whispered and held out his human hand.

She came running and hugged him around the neck. He was covered in blood. His hair and face tinted crimson. He held her tightly. Her hands dug into his shoulders. Her small voice whispered the words.

"You're hurting me Nero", she begged.

Her words ignited something inside of him. He had always protected her and yet she was afraid of him. His brows creased in thought as his devil advocated. She is afraid of you. She has lied to you. She is just like the rest of these filthy humans. They think they are perfect. They call you a freak, a devil, a bastard child. Is that what you really are? I can feel your hate Nero and understand your pain...she doesn't. He placed his claw around her fragile neck and gazed into her eyes for the truth. They widened in response and he saw himself for the first time. What others already knew? He was a freak. Nero clenched his teeth and wanted her to look away but she stroked his cheeks. He felt anger at her touch. Kyrie had always pitied him and so had remained by his side. She didn't love him, not the way he loved her. Not once had he seen love in her eyes. Who was he to her? She knew he loved her and she had never returned his feelings…why?

"Nero", she pleaded again.

"Wake up Nero this isn't you...please".

"Nero please, please come…come back to...me" she choked as he tightened his noose.

How could he deny he wanted to be the one to set this world on fire and everyone to burn inside the hate they had fuelled? Nero had lost his senses to his devil. He was holding back his strength but his devil gripped him harder. Ask her what you have always felt and known. Go on, ask her, what your heart has whispered and yet never received a reply.

Nero probed in a daze, "do you love me Kyrie?" confiscating the red ribbon from her hair.

Kyrie's long stresses floated over her shoulders. She gazed at him in shock; he couldn't see her face anymore. It was as if he was fluctuating in the ripples of fragmented images of her, he was lost inside this place, isolated and alone. Nero closed his eyes and placed one hand behind her head and kissed her lips slowly, he had always wanted to do this but had been afraid of her rejection. Kyrie didn't return his kiss and tilted her face away. Her skin and lips smeared with blood from his face. Nero didn't notice. There was comfort in her embrace; she was his heart and soul, the fire that kindled these dark cold nights, the sun that gave him the strength to continue living this life.

He growled in a foreign voice, "Kyrie…do you love me?"

Kyrie flinched under his possessive touch, his human hand gliding over her moist cheek. She gripped the hand choking her neck and curled her trembling fingers over his white knuckles, refusing to answer his heart wrenching question. Kyrie's silence was her answer that she would never return these one-sided feelings. How could she, he was just a freak. Nero wanted to let her go but he would be lost without her. He heard his devil's whisper. Let her go Nero, she has never loved you and never will. You will die alone and she will leave your side. Let me in, I am your only hope now, your only ally and friend. Your sides I shall never leave. Release me Nero. Let me show you how glorious this world can really be. Let me show you my power, embracing the darkness, embracing his devil in defeat. What happened after this he chooses not to remember?

The other men started to laugh as they witnessed his despairing tears streaming down his face. Akira was panting heavily, he thrust harder. He was about to reach his climax when he felt a hard blow to the back of his head. It had happened so fast he hadn't even seen any effort, bewildered. The other four men only saw a blur as their bodies skidded out of the cell. They all groaned in pain. Akira placed a hand on his bleeding cheek and smiled. A powerful hand landed a right hook on his left cheek and his body went flying into the other men who moaned louder on impact. The cell door slammed shut.

Nero opened his eyes and watched the jailbirds helping each other up. Two of them had a black eye including the fat man. He turned over and looked up to find a tall, lean man vertical over him, stunned by the identical snowy mane which was falling delicately against his handsome face. The man above was extremely unruffled and his expression unreadable, eyes arctic, stare intense. Nero stared dumbfounded. The man looked so much like him that he couldn't look away, amazed. The hostile eyes floated downwards to encounter Nero's, lips narrowed in thought. Brows arched slightly as the two cellmates stared at each other wordlessly. Vergil raked his hair out of habit, his activities nimble and supple, strong eyes averting as they evaluated the traumatized men looking in who immediately paled having received a decent thrashing. There was something disquieting in his regards.

Vergil spoke, "leave...demon", admonitory.

The man standing before them held an air of superiority and menace, "leave".

Akira bowed his head contemptuously. One hand coming down to his chest as his skin cured. "We will, for now gorgeous, but you should know your sweet brother is next on our visitation list", he chuckled proudly and flung his long hair. Caressing his own cheek where he had received the hard blow, no one had ever dared to hit him and he had evidently found his newest challenge.

Vergil tilted his head in rejoinder and vanished on top of the bunk. Nero was still lying frozen on the ground. Smearing the tears from his eyes, he raised his battered body into a sitting position, a shooting pain crippling his back, legs, and spine. The teen hesitantly touched his critically torn and bloodied flesh in the worst place possible. Pulling up his pants unevenly to cover his nakedness and managing to crawl onto the bed. He felt warm tears leave his puffed-up eyes, scrubbing the blood from his bruised and bloodied lips.

Nero's demonic healing had come to an end, as if his own body had given up the will to persist, mercifully nearing unconsciousness. Kyrie was standing outside the cell doors, her small hands gripping the cold steel. She was crying too, she followed him everywhere and he didn't know why he always saw her as a small helpless child, not the grownup girl he had fallen in love with. His body quaked uncontrollably and he curled into a foetal position, arms wrapping his legs to reduce his bodies terrifying ordeal. Nero had never meant to hurt her. Kyrie didn't leave his side and the teen closed his eyes to her face, embracing his empty and broken soul. He would always run to her in his time of need.

"Kyrie", he called and she disappeared.

There was nowhere left to run. He was trapped and alone. The devil arm she had never been afraid of had killed her. Nero was falling into obscurity, this time he opened his arms to it. There was solace in pain. The gash on his back was draining dangerously, covering his body in a cradle of blood, he was bleeding out. Perhaps he would finally find respite. The youth smiled and roamed into oblivion.


	3. No Ally

Nero felt a warm hand brush over his face. He tried to open his eyes but they remained lidded. "Kyrie", he whispered her name in the darkness. She was wearing her white dress and cowering behind a tree. Standing in front of her was a monster covered in blood. His doppelganger was smiling deceptively, eyes crimson, denim jacket flowing in the wind, the flames from his body burning higher and higher. Nero lifted his hand and whispered her name again. He could see the fear in her eyes as he lay powerless to save her.

Reaching out, helpless, "no Kyrie…don't, please don't". She can never hear his voice; he is trapped inside this blackness.

Kyrie runs to the devil that shawls his arms around her lovingly. The monster holds her closer and inclines his head in Nero's direction. Their eyes encounter and he smiles exultantly. His mouth distorted in an ugly grin.

"I will do this for you...to make you stronger", he snarls, the monster with his face.

Nero closed his eyes. He can't bear to look; he had failed her. He hadn't protected her from himself. Kyrie should never have stayed by his side. He felt the hand against his cheek again. This time he gripped it tightly inside his own, it held power and strength. He held on and didn't let go. He ran as fast as he could, away from this dark place. Nero didn't want to watch her death...a pathetic coward.

Heavy eye's flying open to find he was gripping the man that had taken pity on him. Scholarly eyes were regarding his evenly. Finely tuned cheeks and chiselled jawbone distinguishing as the man pried his fingers away from Nero's grasping claw, skin bleeding where his talons had dug into his flesh. The cuts started to rectify and mend, perfecting his skin. Nero wheezed in shock and came to his senses abruptly. He was losing his mind inside this frenzied cage and it had only been a measly day. The cryptic man proceeded to remove the blanket casing his shivering frame, lips squeezed in thought as he reviews the gore uncaringly. The white sheets were coloured bronze. Nero couldn't keep up with their subtle exchanges, deadly pale and on the verges of collapsing. Face still battered and bloodied, he could only watch the man before him with faded cognizance.

Vergil established uninterestingly, "your wound has been infected by that demon. You have no choice but to burn your skin. It's the only way to stop the bleeding".

Nero contemplated his failing body and could see his pants were caked in fresh blood. He glanced around the cell but she was gone. Nero lay back down in his crib, inverse. Nothing mattered anymore. He had no intent to save himself. As if construing his feelings the other male interposed.

"I suggest you heed my words", exceedingly irritated.

Vergil was regulating his annoyance with this inane crossbreed. He had healing demonic blood coursing through his veins and was still peculiarly dying. He would have left him to expire but he would be the one in woe if the guard's found his body during daybreak. The blame would fall squarely on him. Who would believe that someone had the keys to their cell? More decisively, the hybrid had aroused his doubts and interest. Vergil had watched the bout of violence to see what Nero would do and was capable of. Thus far he had done naught to fend off his aggressor's. The blue devil needed concrete evidence to take the next step. He knew he would have to trial the youth.

Nero turned over and wrapped the blanket closer. He couldn't keep his eyes open. The silent man continued to kneel beside his bed, power blistering from his frame like an imperceptible wave of searing energy. It was magnetic and he could feel it, frightened.

"Let me...die" Nero stated quietly, not knowing why he had spoken the words out loud.

He bowed when he sensed another upsurge of energy, this time it was fury, confused. It was weird how he could pick up this man's reactions without looking at him. He felt terror. Why was he feeling like this...vulnerable? He felt steady hands confiscating the blanket jaggedly. Nero growled in anger and tried to getaway.

Vergil rapt his wrists and wrestled him easily to the floor. Nero was thrashing, trying to fight back, teeth bared as he let his anger burst. He wanted to die and this man was holding him back. Vergil applied basic strength, rotating Nero's body and holding him down, snatching his pants with his free hand, tugging just below the hips to inspect the gaping abrasion. Vergil devil triggered. His yellow talons shredded Nero's skin where his human hand had sat.

Nero's muffled cry was more from shock then pain as commanding black wings fashioned a rush of vitality and covered the entire cubicle. Nero felt them clash with his cheek, startled by their magnificence and unexpected heat. His mind couldn't even begin to follow what was happening to him. All he could do was keep an eye on Vergil who was raising his clawed hand which was engulfed in cerulean blazes, Nero's eyes widened in panic as he reared his head only to catch a glimpse of crimson eyes and a fear-provoking black and blue form. The wraithlike touch against his skin so acquainted. The devil who was holding him down shared the same flesh as the one on his devil arm, horrified by the insight. This man was far from human…this man was…just like him.

"Please don't", Nero whispered in distress as he felt the flames closing in.

A deep throaty growl entered his earshot as Vergil located the flames over his draining wound. Before Nero could scream in pain he felt a human hand cover his mouth shut, muffling his agonised cries. The last thing Vergil wanted was for the guards to see him in his devil form. He didn't want to draw any attention to himself or his unique powers. Nero's body went limp beneath his. He had lost awareness. Vergil's brows curved as he inspected the youth's burnt skin. The cut had sealed. It seemed the hybrid was choosing not to let his demonic blood restore his infliction's, foolish.

Vergil lifted his lifeless body and positioned him in the insubstantial bed, casing his frame. He gazed out of the cell and scoured his locks. The soft silk dove over his face, just like his brother's. They had to ensure that they looked exactly the same. It was the only way to implement their plot, recalling the cell doors were unlocked. Vergil decided to check up on Dante. The demon had goaded him and he had fabricated dispassion but if anything would happen to his sibling, this prison would be burned to dust. Slipping out and closing the cell. His agility would ensure he would slip past the other guard's without being seen as they sustained traversing the zones.

Nero woke up in pain and murmured. His skin was sweltering. He raised his body and placed his quivering legs on the ground. He stood up slowly and sat down on the toilet seat to take a leak. His trembling hand impressed his raw and swollen skin on his behind. The laceration had clogged and the burn wasn't too bad, flushing the toilet, he eyed the bunk bed. The man was gone and his brows crinkled. He slipped on his pants and hoisted gradually to review the bed. It was definitely unoccupied. The man he was looking for was in fact standing in front of the prison cell. Their eyes come across and Nero couldn't look away. There was something familiar about the man that stood in front of him. He had never met anyone like himself before. The thought that he was not the only one with demonic blood running through his veins was reassuring. He looked away.

Vergil slipped inside the cell and clamped the bar shut. Nero stepped away from him and sat down slowly on the bed. The elder flew on the bunk and lay down quietly. It was almost 6 a.m., and they were both soundless. Nero took the toothbrush and started to brush his teeth. He spat in the small plastic cup, feeling numb, he didn't know what to say. He rubbed his cracked and tender lips and sighed. There were so many questions he wanted to ask the stranger above but they were all pointless. What did it matter now? A loud beeping sound made his heart hurdle as the cells doors flew wide open.

"Move out", a warden shouted in the distance.

Nero sat up and stepped out of the cell, all the prisoners were standing outside, some of them putting on their clothes, others rubbing their drowsy eyes.

"Surprise inspections, so get up and get the hell out", another warden streamed past.

The blonde officer was inspecting each man as they formed a straight line. Vergil was the last one to step outside, coming to a standstill beside his cellmate. Nero glimpsed sideways and Vergil met his gaze, bending his crowns for he had a few inches in height over the adolescence. The officer known as Robertson stopped outside their cell and inspected the small room judiciously. He could see the blood stained bed sheets, by means of his baton to eradicate the coverings. He stepped out and stood in front of Nero.

Crooning and insulting "you had your period last night?"

Nero glared. His fury surfacing as the officer jeered, his green eyes lingering on Nero's bruised face and bloodied pants, sarcastic grin growing wider displaying his yellow crooked teeth.

"You need a nurse?"

Nero flouted and gazed out. He felt the baton resting under his chin as the officer sloped his face towards him.

"Well?" He pressed it against his neck.

Nero's eyes contracted. "No", he spat, knowing the warden was trying to get under his skin.

The blonde officer's eyes fell on Vergil next; he walked towards him. Vergil met his intent look.

Robertson hyped, "I heard your brother is in solitary for a week".

Vergil's jaw scrunched. Slender hands came to his forehead and he brushed his temples.

The officer beamed, treading closer, "for your little stunt in helping this one and hitting Akira".

Nero eavesdropped and watched in hatred. He understood that the wardens had known the men would attack him last night. The thought pissed him off. He turned to face the officer who was still scrutinising Vergil's returns. He noted Nero had progressed nearer and walked towards him. Baton absorbed forbiddingly in his right hand.

"Step back, runt", he marshalled, tone imposing.

Nero smirked and stepped closer punching him hard in the face. The warden tumbled and he heard a loud whistle behind him. Three wardens were running towards him with their batons ready. He flexed.

"Come and get it you assholes", all-out.

Vergil turned to him slightly and struck him on the right side of his temple. The blow came so fast and hard he didn't even see the drive. His vision blurred, falling to his knees. He shook his head and gazed up into the stony eyes of the one who had hit him. The three wardens gripped his arms and held him down on the ground. He didn't fight them, he had no power left. Vergil's harsh eyes fell back on the blonde officer and he stretched his hand. The officer took it and stood up cautiously. The other wardens gaped back at Vergil in surprise and picked up Nero's wilted body.

Robertson stroked his throbbing face, "throw that little shit in solitary for a week".

Vergil watched them dragging the hybrid away when the officer ventilated.

"Guess you made the right choice just now. Your brother will be out today". He gripped the baton and stroked the scar on his cheek, "follow the rules and you will do just fine".

Robertson wiped his puffed-up eye and swayed his hand to the other officers to continue their check-up. Vergil checked his bleeding knuckle as his skin cured. He surveyed them take the younger away, lips sloping to form a trifling smile.

"Dante", he inhaled.

Nero's head limped forward. He still had spots in his vision as the officers dragged his body away. They had cuffed him again to detain him. He came through a new set of corridors, in and out of consciousness. One officer unlocked the doors and they walked through. These were individual holding cells. Even smaller than the one he was in. The officer unbolted the door and signalled to the chap seated inside to get out.

Nero heard a flamboyant unruly yawn in answer. He lifted his head and was shocked at the sight before him. It was the man that had hit him but how could that be? Brows creased in utter wonder as he looked hard into a set of duplicate roguish eyes. They gaped at each other in equal bewilderment. The man's eyes widened in surprise and he chuckled. His laughter filled the empty corridor. It was deep, heartfelt, and unsuitable for their miserable surroundings. Nero's mouth opened in disbelief. The guards could only glare at the uncontrollable rascal. His silvery mane was falling on his face but he made no move to comb it back. A playful look in his eyes and on his lips, so very different to the one he had seen prior. Nero realised they were twins. They had to be. This was the secretive man's indistinguishable brother.

Dante clucked "never thought I would find another hybrid in this shithole", he gestured theatrically with one hand to emphasise his point, voice deep and easy on the ears. He continued to gaze at Nero with a look of esteem and frank inquisitiveness. Likewise, Nero continued to stare in obvious shock.

Dante winked emphatically, "good luck kid, you will need it". As one of the pensive guards cuffed and hauled him away.

The other was removing the cuffs from Nero's wrist and shoved him hard inside the now vacant room. He was blanketed in dimness as the florescent bulb flickered and died in the windowless cell. There was a small bed and a steel toilet in one corner. The conditions in these lockups were destitute of the most basic human needs. Yet the thing inside of him didn't deserve anything less. He lay down on the hard floor resting his head under his arm. His sore and tired body finally unperturbed, for he was quarantined from the world, from existence, from reality. His eyes remained on the white walls. They were marked by fingernails, blood, and incoherent dabbling's. Solitary must be a place where a person could lose themselves. Nero fell asleep, thankful. He woke up when a warden slid in food from a small flap installed below the door. He glided the plate away, choosing to starve.

Time ceased to exist. He didn't know how many hours had already passed, whether he was awake or dreaming. He heard some people in the remoteness. They were cursing a beautiful woman. They threw stones at her every time she walked down a path to get food and water. Her long black hair fell to her waist; her blue eyes were the same as his. She protected his tiny body with her own, to shield him, from them. Her long brown dress dirtied as they continued to stone her. She didn't make a sound, holding him tightly. She never cried, even when they made her skin bleed. He gripped her dress and scowled at them. He wanted to kill them all but she kissed his reddened cheek and his ire would weaken.

"Nero...I will never let them hurt you", her voice, so peaceful, so…

He gazes at her but doesn't remember who she is. She strokes his snowflake hair and kisses him again. She lifts him easily and carries him the rest of the way, inside her warm arms. She suffers silently, her eyes are sad. He glares at the ugly men and women as they watch her leave with hate filled eyes. He will destroy them, for hurting her. Nero opened his eyes and stroked his cheek. Who was she and why did he have this habitual nightmare? Questioning why he was born. He had never belonged with anyone and the one person who had made the mistake to remain by his side had met her end. It still felt like a dream that she was actually gone. He had never accepted this reality, she was still alive and a part of him and he would keep her forever, Kyrie.

He gathered now that he couldn't face her older self, she was dead, and he had killed her with his love? He curled up resting both arms around his legs and felt his tears leaving his eyes. They slid down his dampened cheeks and lay against his lips. Did he taste her tears on his rims that day? No, when he had kissed her lips, he had only felt her fear and rejection. They reminded him of the cherry blossoms. There was never any light in his world but with her death he knew he would fade away into darkness. It was only a matter of time when his devil would claim his heart and soul. There was no fight left inside of him, a part of him wanted to watch this world burn and for chaos to reign. The power inside of him was a dark force; his father was a devil and he had learnt this fact at a young age. Yet the human side of him was the one that had suffered the most. He opened his swollen eyes and saw a white ball rolling towards him; he grinned when he saw her materialise from the dark.

Nero smirked, "you found me Kyrie?"

She smiled and nodded her head shyly. He gazed up and watched the cherry blossoms falling against his skin, the rays of the sun blindingly beautiful as they find their way through the trees heavy foliage, sparkling and illuminating the pink petals. He wasn't alone in the world; she came and sat down beside him. Her small hands trailing and admiring the red, cyan, and blue tinges of his devil arm.

Kyrie stopped, scared. "I can't stay...he is coming Nero". Her eyes are fixated towards the open field.

Nero's eyes broadened in dreadfulness. He saw the bloodied devil treading towards them. Silver hair tinted crimson, his body engulfed in bloodshot infernos. Nero stood up and clutched Kyrie's small hand inside his own. She was running beside him, matching his steps and speed but he could see her slowing down. She was getting tired, she stopped, breathless. She shook her head and turned to face the devil as he towered over the two of them. Kyrie gripped Nero's hand tighter but the flames were already overwhelming her brittle body. She closed her eyes as her hair, clothes, and flesh starts to sting, disintegrating inside the terrifying blazes. Nero watches her die right in front of his eyes…ashes and dust.

The devil turned to face him, eyes alluringly lit. He extends his claw and Nero takes it inside his human one. He opened his eyes and could feel his entire being ablaze, from the birthplace of all his burdens and regrets, his devil arm. The bed caught fire, his clothes burned away. The flames were calm against his skin, his face tranquil as his injured flesh rebuilds and rectifies. Nero sat up cross legged as stillness occupied his soul. He folded his arms around his long legs. He couldn't deny he had missed these firestorms. He found the devil with his face standing in front of him. His clawed hand caresses his snow whites and Nero looks up at his bloodied image.

"All you have is me Nero…I will never leave your side, let me show you my true power".

The devil kneels like a doting angel, voice announced like low thunder, kissing Nero's ear.

"You can't control this power, only I can, the one closest to your heart…your weak", brushing lips, moist and hot.

The devil sites his arms around Nero's shoulders and holds him inside his arms. His denim jacket and jeans soaked in sweet-smelling blood.

"I killed her for you…she was hurting you Nero", out of breath.

"I killed those humans for you too but you don't remember that day. You were only two. The day I sheltered you and avenged her death...our beautiful..." kissing Nero's lips gently.

Nero leered and held him closer. His devil was a part of him, his only friend and companion, in this life and the next. If they joined forces they could destroy this world, together. Yet he hated him more than himself. He could never forgive him for killing Kyrie. As if reading his thoughts, the smile faded from the devil's jaws and he inches closer, rubbing Nero's cheek, coating it in blood. The flames consuming the two of them as they gazed at each other devotedly, knowing they couldn't part ways. They shared one body and soul.

"How long can you control your hatred? It burns inside you. This fire has already spread and you will be the one to set this world alight. When the time comes no one will be able to stop you. It's your destiny and I will be the only witness to your true glory".

His crimson eyes trailed his devil arm with affection, "this place can't hold you forever and I won't let you die".

Nero smirked and regarded his naked body. He reviewed his clawed hand warily; it was the one that had gripped her neck. He placed his wrist next to his lips and tore his flesh between his teeth. The devil released his hold and shook his head in dissatisfaction.

"So close we were this time", he disappeared into the shadows but Nero could still overhear his haunting voice.

"I will wait until you remember that day Nero, what they did to her. You can't hide forever from the truth about humans".

Nero observed his bleeding skin as his lifeblood gushed out of his wrist, thick black smoke filling the room. The mattress and walls toast. The flames left his skin and he lay back down, his body losing consciousness but at least he was still in his sanities, or so he hoped.


	4. Deliberation

Vergil was upended in a long queue for breakfast, glancing around the bustling room, harsh perceptiveness evaluating the other criminals mildly. The jailbirds were wholly arrayed in the same demeaning prison garbs designed to break self-worth and private rights. After all, what one chooses to wear would make them separable, here they had no identity. He missed the feel of his combat clothes and Yamato. Practiced hands were restless without his beloved katana, even though it rested beneath his Godly flesh, merged, with his devil side. It had been the only way to transport the blade inside the prison, concealed.

He picked up a tray and inspected the contents of what appeared to be food, a carton of milk, cornflakes, dry bread slices and a very stale observing apple. His jaw scrunched, uninspired, he made his way towards an unfilled bench. Four heavily armed guards were patrolling the connecting staircase, getting a bird's eye view from a benign distance when all prisoners were in close proximity of one another. Vergil sat down on a table for four and could tell all eyes were on him and why not? He had yet to choose a side.

The men were segregated into four specific groups; whites, blacks, Hispanics and others. It was pitiable to think human beings could divide themselves so idiotically, according to race and colour. This room could be abridged as a ground for survival based on meek illogical rules and codes of practice fixed by primitive minds that were racially antagonistic and visionless. Vergil slanted his crown and opened the carton of milk, spilling it over the cornflakes in a subdued manner when he felt someone approaching and he already knew who that 'someone' was. His strides fell too self-confidently, his eye-catching figure so infectious the other inmates couldn't help but stare. The one pacing was thoroughly enjoying the attention he generated with a smug smile of superiority.

"Dante", Vergil spoke up before his brother could sneak up behind him.

Dante chuckled in wonder and sat down on the opposite stool, his unruly face converted into a look of respect.

"Can never catch you off guard care to share your secret Verge?"

Vergil scrutinised. Dante hadn't slept, just like him. The beds were atrocious and he couldn't wait to get out of this prison as soon as their mission was complete. Dante glowered at the sight of the food, he was dreading lunch and dinner now. He positioned a hand over his face in acceptance, spoiled tastes eyeing Vergil and sighing loudly. He propped forward, lean fingers finding Vergil's tresses and trying to rake them back from his temples. Vergil couldn't help a minor smile from seeming his lips. Dante didn't notice; too busy tackling the fine threads, complaining.

"This hair is what bothers me the most. It just doesn't suit you bro", noticeably unhappy. It was strange seeing his twin matching his hairdo, dejected.

Vergil proposed, amused, "would you prefer if we both had it combed back, because we can, as long as we match in view of…that?"

Considering the difficult circumstances, Dante was more concerned about their current appearances. It was so like his little brother to discard the serious business at hand.

Dante scratched his slight stubble and shook his head, "I doubt we will get hair gel here, but let me know when you want to mix it up", eyes tapering friskily when he noted the elders curving brows, "am on my best behaviour…for you".

This humble place was thoroughly boring him and Vergil was the only reason he was still here. A bar of chocolate was strategically glided towards him. Dante's eyes lit up at the sight of it, he checked it diligently. Sugar was his first love.

"Trying to bribe me?"

Vergil countered, "I thought you may appreciate the gesture", it was a crafty move on his part.

Dante was by now scoffing the chocolate without savouring it. He licked his fingers in fleeting contentment and tossed the wrapper.

Satisfied and teasing, "I hope you didn't smuggle this in".

Vergil vaulted one sophisticated brow in retort. "If you have money you can still buy things here", having wisely retained a small bundle of cash when they had first entered the penitentiary. He had done his research.

Dante licked his lips, "thanks, but I doubt we will be here longer than a week or so…am hoping", glancing around the room in complete lack of concern. He leaned forward, resting both arms on the table. One finger jabbing at Vergil.

"You owe me a sundae and pizza when we get the hell out of this shithole. In fact, you owe me a lifetime supply for dragging me here in the first place. This small amount won't cut it", he blew on his hair to attest the facts.

Vergil had zoned out. He was dissecting the cornflakes with his plastic spoon, lost in thought. Their crime had been nothing but staged automobile theft. As planned, they were incarcerated with the other hardened criminals under bogus identities. Thus far there had been some minor interruptions to their strategies. Firstly, he hadn't projected demons being on the premises. Secondly, it was the hybrid that was leaving him most opposed. Vergil's brows wrinkled when he remembered the fledgling was still in solitary.

"Did you meet…him?" The words were always spoken gently towards Dante. His voice and say rhythmically alters for his mirror-image, protectively.

Dante regarded the other convicts before meeting his brother's unknowable gaze. He took a bite of the apple and scowled, it was rotten. He spat it out of his mouth and glowered.

"Yeah Verge, kid looked like shit and was fragile as hell", he smeared his perfect lips.

Vergil took a bite of the cornflakes and couldn't swallow. He removed it from his mouth courteously. The food was wretched, placing the spoon back on the salver. His trim fingers studied the apple.

"I agree…he is suicidal. The task will prove to be extremely difficult given his demonic blood".

Vergil tilted his head and met Dante's intense stare as they both assessed the heavy implications.

"His devil arm is impressive. His human side is the weaker of the two, as foretold. He is damaged and it is only a matter of time when he loses himself to his demonic side".

Dante exhaled, "when that happens we will have no reservations in killing him Verge. Right now it's a little hard to stomach".

Vergil spun the apple in a circle on the steel table, his shrill eyes measuring the travels, unblinking and absorbed. He had first heard about the crossbreed’s case in the news when he had seen his image. The resemblance to them was arresting. His interest spiralled when he had investigated his background. More importantly, the small village where he was born and raised named Fortuna. Something inside of him had clawed away at this designation. He had dismissed it countless times from his mind but it was no coincidence that his father Sparda had already told him about this particular chronicle, unsure of its authenticity. As with all Prophecies cynicism had shrouded his heart long ago.

Fortuna was said to be a place where they worshipped devils as Gods. They believed in a saviour, an extraordinary child that would redeem this contemptible world with his blinding light. The flames from his arms would burn the unjust and strengthen those that were strong enough to bare his fire upon their flesh. He would offer both healing and wrath, a spirit that would be feared and revered, for he would be the ruler of the human race, a righteous and indestructible flame. Nero had already passed judgment on the township. The village had been destroyed in a freak fire when he was just 2 years old. There were no survivors, only charred remains of the villagers. He had killed them all in cold blood, including the women and children.

Vergil's lips tautened. Whether he would remember such an event was insignificant. His devil had already tasted death and destruction; the feeling would grow with age. He would know. Nero was placed in an orphanage for several years and had mysteriously disappeared, until now. They had researched the reports about his second crime. He had killed four men and his girlfriend in a secluded park. The hybrid was the one who had confessed to his grisly crimes. The police had found nothing, not even singed remains of his unlucky victims. His power must have grown immensely over the years. They had managed to find the victims' identities with the blood traces on his clothes. They had no real evidence, just a mindless confession, and the judge had handed him life based on nothing. He had willingly chosen to be incarcerated.

A hybrid that was unable to control his demonic powers would need to be put down immediately, the way a mad dog would. He had already killed and they knew humans wouldn't be able to contain him once he triggered. On a scale of one to ten, he was off the Richter scale in their eyes. With this kind of power there was no telling how destructive he could become. Unlike the demonic blood that coursed through their veins, they had no clue on what kind of demon his father was, in which case they couldn't tell what his trigger would be like. Vergil had waited patiently to see it, up till now the hybrid had controlled his rage, which is what had bothered him the most. His own curiosity had been aroused. Even when he had punched him and devil triggered he had done nothing to react, most odd.

Dante reclined on his seat and doubled his commanding arms over his sizeable chest, agitated, proceeding to tap the metallic table with his edgy fingers. Their eyes chanced silently as Vergil raised his observations, snapping out of his trance. They knew what the other was thinking. They were picture-perfect echoes of one another despite their dissimilar temperaments.

Dante fretted "well, I refuse to kill the kid if he isn't going to put up a fight. Where the hell would be the fun in that"?

Dante regarded the other inmates who continued to glance at the two of them from time to time. He shrugged his shoulders and met his associate's penetrating watch.

"I know you feel the same way. Where would be the honour, without a fair fight?"

Vergil was captivated by his sibling whom could read him better than he gave him credit for. He combed his hair out of habit and fondled his slender fingers, "agreed".

Dante relaxed, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the kid who had a pretty shitty initiation into his demonic heritage. Nero's powers were the real reason they were here. Their jobs as devil hunters meant wasting those Devil's that posed the most threat to sweet old humanity. Dante's eyes unstiffened as they appraised Vergil's face who had taken a keen interest in this specific assignment. He had seen him obsessively researching the kid's background. Dante was worried about Vergil and would never have allowed him to take this one on alone.

Dante heaved yet another sigh and rocked back and forth on the flimsy chair. A part of him knew his brother understood the kid's inner turmoil better than anyone else. He had almost lost himself to his devil once. He had killed in its powerful grips. Dante had managed to pull Vergil back from the point of no return, just barely, wanting to forget those darkened memories. They had a strong bond and in the end his devil had bowed before it. Maybe his brother could relate to the kid. Dante had to admit he was also interested in the unlucky teens upbringing. They had never met another hybrid and it would be a real shame to waste him like this. They were both quiet for some time before he spoke up.

"Let me find out for sure...I'll talk to the kid".

Vergil placed the apple back on the tray. "Brother, I wouldn't underestimate his powers. He is dangerous; I suggest we go ahead without further deliberation". He was still in two minds about killing the fledgling but the task would become harder, the further they delayed it.

Dante grinned, it was so like his brother to move in for the kill. He was quiet, calm, and deceptively dangerous but he wanted to assess the kid himself.

"Give me two days Verge, after that we go with your plan and drop him".

Vergil eyed as four men from the Hispanic group came up to their table. Dante followed Vergil's stare and groaned. He was finding it extremely hard to keep himself and his powers in check. The rebellious nature dormant within was about to be tested. Vergil erected charmingly and Dante tracked rapidly as to prevent an altercation when the men obstructed their exit. One of the generic thugs spoke in a dense voice.

"Akira wants to see you", his impassive face gauging theirs.

Dante's roguish eyes strayed towards the tattoos adorning his thick neck which portrayed nude chicks with well-endowed boobs, his grin broadened. Dante slipped an arm around Vergil's chest and whispered into his ear, kissing his hearing. Vergil's expression was inviolate as the other men continued to block their path, awkwardly. The twins were powerfully built and would take considerable strength to subdue. The supplementary felons eating could sense the tension in the air. Yet the danger seemed to be radiating from the newest arrivals. The guards were watching closely from the top of the staircase.

Vergil decided, "very well, we will meet him here", this demon was proving to be a hindrance, seating on the table for the second time, civilly.

Dante gaped in shock, mouth open. His brother was indecipherable even to him. He came and sat down beside him as he tried to re-eat the nauseating diet.

"Verge, is this the ugly broad that seems to be running the show?"

Dante had seen the feminine looking man with long hair yesterday. They had tried to give him a warm welcome last night and he had handed their asses to them. The wardens had interrupted him and he had no choice but allow them to confine him.

Vergil advised "that…demon seems to be in charge of this jail".

The menfolk continued to stand over them not knowing what to do next. They hadn't quite anticipated the twin's next move. The man with the tattoos tried to place his hand on Vergil's shoulder when Dante rapt his wrist and sneered.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you", pleasantly.

Vergil spoke coolly, "brother it's..." unable to complete his sentence as Dante erected.

"Don't worry Verge...am just going to talk to him"…untruthful.

Vergil positioned a hand over his brow. He knew his determined brother wouldn't listen, siting his tray away from his figure, on the edge of the table. Knowing what was looming, watching the two guards who were still inspecting the scene with mild interest.

Dante engaged his arm around the man's shoulder who glared at him. The other three men stepped closer and Dante slipped his arms around them too.

Beaming, "why don't we find Akira together" squeezing.

The man with the tattoos spat, "you trying to be funny pretty boy".

Dante smiled, "I think am just trying to make some new friends". He proceeds to topple the contents of the sour cornflakes and milk on top of the man's head.

Vergil watched with unresponsiveness as one of the guards frowned and started to make his way down the staircase before things could escalate. The furious and by now dripping thug tried to grip Dante's neck but he was at present standing right behind him. They were shocked by his stealthy movements. The thug retaliated by snatching Dante's tray and trying to spill it over his head but the fillings spilled over his skinny acquaintance, the spray from the minor commotion landing on the back of another inmate sitting close by. This man was from the black group. He cleaned his pants and pitched his carton of milk straight at the tattooed man's head unable to contain his anger. The aggressive gesture made the other three men turn towards their table.

Gang rivalry was the only code here and this was the start of something big. Dante nodded his head in approval and picked up another carton of milk. He placed it inside the skinny man's hand whose dark eyes widened in astonishment as he flung it at the whites who were clearly missing out on all the fun, getting a nice smash on a skinhead. The carton blowing up on heated impact. The skinny Hispanic man stood dumbfounded. Within seconds the place was in chaos. They all charged at each other in testosterone fuelled fury before the warden had touched the last step. Dante snickered and watched the bout, pleased with his work. Vergil stood up and watched with a look of disdain. Humans were accurately rash in their instinctual violence and plain futility.

Dante placed his hand over his jaw and ducked a few unsuccessful punches that were thrown his way. The guards tossed teargas to get the violent situation under control. Vergil noted Akira was watching from above the staircase. All the guards on shift were working under his instructions. Dark eyes roaming over Vergil's face as he flicked his curls seductively and winked rather suggestively. Vergil sneered and looked away, repelled. There was something unsettling about this particular demon. It was both clever and cunning. They would have to be careful, speculating whether the demon knew about their real identities

Dante caught, "y' knows Verge I reckon we should kill that ugly broad first".

Unable to resist the dig, "think he is giving you the sexy eyes", chuckling.

Vergil gripped Dante's hand and pulled him into his body as another convict made a hurried lunge for him, falling flat on his face for his efforts.

Reminding, "I urge you to keep a close eye on this demon. Keep that hybrid away from him…at all cost".

Dante refreshed, "don't worry bro, first things first, we need the kid out".

Vergil had an idea. They would need to swap cells tonight. If the hybrid was released from solitary, Dante would be able to win his trust easily. His brother had an exceptional charm when dealing with humans, something he had no patience for.

Dante met the dark eyes of the man who continued to watch his brother with peckish eyes. He whistled and pointed.

"Hey ugly...I really don't think you're his type" taunting.

Akira laughed and stroked his hair, his bulky body leaning over the staircase.

"We shall see handsome. Now that I have my eye on him am sure he will eventually…change his mind".

Akira bent and left the staircase accompanied by another guard. Dante's eyes narrowed at his parting remark and the smile subsequently faded from his lips. Vergil was by now making his way back towards the holding cells as the guards struggled to break up the brawl. Any inmates that lunged at them only met thin air. They were matchless. The guards were calling for back-up, some inmates were knocked out, others coughing and holding their eyes in agony from the teargas. Dante jiggled his head and gazed across the room with a look of fulfilment. The place was in disorder and having been in solitary for a day it was good to be out with a bang.

Akira made his way towards the solitary cells. He gestured to the guard to open the doors. The frantic guard fumbled with his keys. He gaped in horror at the sight of the seared room. The walls were black, the connecting bed to the wall in ashes. The young man entombed inside was lying motionless, his naked body coated with fresh blood from a self-inflicted wound to his wrist. Before he could walk in Akira pushed him backwards with one finger, squatting besides Nero's comatose body to inspect the wound. He smeared the blood with his fingertips and realised the gash had already closed, leaving only a minor scratch. Akira tasted Nero's blood inside his mouth and closed his eyes. The guard watched on warily.

"Clean up this cell. When he comes round, bring him to me. We have much to discuss".

The guard nodded compliantly. Akira's eyes lingered over Nero's unclothed body. This devil might prove to be instrumental in breaking the twin he had become fixated with. He wanted him to be his new pet. After all, he had never met anyone who could send a shudder down his spine with just one look. Breaking him was his one and only desire. He licked his full lips in anticipation of his next move.


	5. Decisions

He gripped her brown dress and stilled in the middle of the footpath, bounded by sumptuous pastures. Yet he hated the sight of everything here. Elaborate wildflowers were flourishing alongside the dirt road. Nero never noticed them. He hated the people the most. They were farmers and she could never slip past their condemnatory regards. They wiped their dripping foreheads and stopped digging. Some of the women went inside their homes with their small children in tow, bolting their doors shut. A few of the men scowled in her direction as they tended to their produce. She squeezed his hand inside her warm one, soothingly. They had to eat. It was the only reason why they embarked upon this difficult route.

"Come Nero", she ushers gently.

A man clad in brown overalls screeches. "Whore, why don't you hang yourself? You're so shameless showing your face here every week".

She ignores him, clutching Nero nearer. He doesn't understand why they hurt her with their words. He gazes up at her for the answer. Lengthy brown hair is puffing in the wind. She is tall and has an angelic face. She simply has never belonged with these deprived people, and never will. Her actions are that of a midsummer's gust. She reminds him of the water lilies that grow in the lakes near their isolated home. They were peach in colour. Nero had almost drowned once while trying to pick one, for her. The stalk was hard and he lost his foothold. She had saved him.

Nero had gifted her that precious flower, in his struggle, he hadn't let it go. She nudged his small hand. He walks with his head down. His white top and brown pants are torn and unclean. They are very poor. Something strikes his rosy cheek leaving it stinging. Nero rubbed his flesh. Blood coated his tiny fingers. She turned to face him, dismayed. Lenient brows crease, she gasps in pain. She lowers on her laps to check his bleeding skin when another stone strikes her temple. A group of kids were hurling rocks at them. It was always the same. As if they were not human but the crows that flocked their precious harvest.

"Scary witch and her devil child", it had become a lullaby. They sang the words over and over before running away.

Nero didn't cry. She was weeping. Her tears hurt him the most…it hurts until his tiny chest is about to explode. Nero smears them and notices her forehead is still bleeding. The blood wouldn't stop. The angel doesn't heal. She kissed his small fingers lovingly, wiping her tears coarsely. She loves him. There is only love and acceptance in these beautiful eyes. She was never afraid of him. Nero was a part of her. She cradles him inside her arms. Did she know she was strong? She walked down this road knowing they would hurt her, each and every time. She was alone and exposed. She kissed his forehead gently, one hand resting behind his head. Their identical eyes encounter. Nero knows he is her true strength and comfort. He peeked behind her and can see the bloodied devil upended on the same dirt road, a crazy sneer enveloping his lips as he eyes the farmers.

"Remember her name Nero" the devil elevated his hand to prompt obliteration.

Nero looked away, afraid, hugging her.

"I love you my sweet child", she comforts him, enfolding.

Nero plays with her tresses and rests inside her embrace, from this world he had come to hate. Perceptions flew open when he felt cold water being flung on him. He trembled, all over, in shock, disorientated. Brows crumpled when he grasped his hands were cuffed behind him to a steel chair, seated inside a dank cell. Two wardens were standing on each side with their batons prepared. His hair was dripping and he was bound naked. His body began to shiver, feet frozen from the icy floors. Nero gazed around in utter confusion when he felt a hand brush his jaw.

"Wakey, wakey, sweet prince", the words fell beside his ear. It was the voice of the man who had raped him.

Nero felt anger and hatred at his touch. He didn't want to look into his face. Akira tilted his head and their eyes clashed. Dark predacious eyes detained intellect, long hair partly casing his face.

"My apologies for our first meeting I believe we got off on the, ah...wrong foot" light-hearted.

Akira sat down on the floor in front of Nero, his dusky eyes analysing the delightful sight before him, with dearth.

Nero glared, hair tangled to his forehead. "Fuck you...you piece of shit", he spat through chattering teeth.

The baddie laughed, highly amused, propping his elbows over Nero's thighs until they were eye to eye. Nero tilted his head away but Akira gripped his chin and continued to stare in silence with lidded eyes, the other hand progressing to stroking his lovely thighs…unhurriedly. Gliding up his flesh and relaxing tentatively over his dipping hipbones. The strokes were grossly intimate. Nero felt revolted. He grits his fangs. The handcuff's biting into his thrashing wrists as he tried to stay in control.

Akira leaned into his ear seductively, "have you ever been in love...Nero?"

Nero was dazed by the strange question. He closed his eyes and she was smiling at him. Kyrie was sleeping on his chest. She was gripping his devil arm. They had found shelter from the rain, inside an abandoned edifice. He caressed her hair, wrapping his denim jacket over her body. He would always watch her fall asleep, the rigorous sound of the showers restful. These reminiscences of her were etched inside his broken heart.

Akira whispered tracing Nero's chest. "You have haven't you?"

Nero spat on his face, sickened, saliva streaming his chin. "Get the fuck off me".

Akira sulked. He patted his skin to trace the spittle onto his fingers. He smiled and positioned his fingers inside his mouth, provocatively sucking and winking deviously. He mounted, clicking his finger. The guard placed another seat in front of Nero's and he sat down opposite him resting both hands on his lap in a girly way. Nero knew he was playing mind games but he didn't care. The man before him was nothing but a vulture who feasted on the weak. Akira crossed his legs and rested one hand under his chin, rapidly talking.

"Let us get to business at hand then. My name is Akira.

Shining, "please do call me by my birth name".

Wiggling energetically, "you may have guessed that I actually oversee all operations inside this jail. I have lived here since its inception in 1889. Since then, I have realised, this is where I truly belong.

He scanned the cell, dark eyes fixated. "I've had a share of some really wonderful men here. They are nothing but dirt and deserve to be treated no less. We demons are fascinated by darkness. It is light that we are most afraid of".

Akira's smile broadened, flashing bright teeth, "I know you understand what I mean…don't you? The prison we construct is by us, for us. No one is truly free in this life".

Nero's forehead creased in confusion. He wondered what the demon actually wanted from him. Akira brushed his hair and studied his nails, when someone else walked into the room interrupting their private conversation. It was the blonde officer and he looked angry.

"What the hell is going on here Akira", furious. He pointed at Nero with his baton, "why is this little shit out of solitary. I gave specific orders for him to rot there for a week?"

Nero smirked when he saw his swollen eye. Robertson struck him across the face with his baton. Nero felt his head snap backwards from the blow. Akira puckered erecting to get things under control, grabbing Robertson by his shoulders, for a brief telling-off, frowning at Nero's bleeding brow and trying to stop the flow with his shirt.

"That wasn't very nice now, was it? Excessive use of force has always been an issue for you?"

Nero skewed his head, resisting. Akira gave up his efforts at trying to be nice, wrapping his influential arms around the officer's neck and placing a small kiss onto his lips. Robertson stared down, annoyance waning.

"I don't like this…form of yours", he whispered into Akira's ear urgently but Nero caught the words.

Akira positioned a finger over his lips to silence him, progressing to tugging his lower lip to glide his tongue inside his mouth. The two kissed fervently. Nero looked away, disturbed, and unnerved by the sight of the two men caressing. Akira peeped at Nero and patted the scar on the officer's cheek, making it bleed, the scar expanding under his touches. Robertson looked daggers at Nero, his blood dripping down his chin.

Akira licked the blood spotless, "leave me my love. I will hurt him for you".

Robertson agreed unhappily "as you wish", withdrawing.

Akira ridiculed and wiped his lips. "What a bore", clapping his hands. The two wardens emptied the room.

Akira sighed in liberation, cuddling Nero's neck behind the chair, "alone at last".

Telling, "I like you...you look just like him. However, it's your eyes they are so…different…from his".

Akira propped frontwards and inspected his face closely "his brother is identical, yet he doesn't have his eyes either". Squeezing Nero, "I can pretend you're him but it is…unsatisfying. His eyes torment me".

Tittering, "by the way when you squeezed your beloved's neck did you get a boner?"

Nero was horrified.

"I read your file and understand why you did it. When we love someone, sometimes, we want to keep them forever. Crushing with love so to speak, which is why you're here today"?

Akira let go of Nero and sat back on the chair. He cut his lip with his fingernail and pulled out a black string. Nero watched in dismay as it started to move, resembling a small leech. Akira sited it inside his hand. The leech latched onto his skin. Growing in size as it consumed his blood.

"Do you know what slack water is…standing of the tide, a period of time when tidal water is unstressed but you don't really know when it will change, the tide that is?"

Reciting, "I see the change of tide in his arctic eyes, in his arctic eyes; I see the tide...rhymes".

Nero finally spoke; he was tired of this man's bullshit, "what the hell do you want from me you freak?"

Akira caressed the black leach with his finger, his dark eyes never leaving its body, "young people are far too...impatient" he crushed the leech inside his hand and checked the blood splatter.

He stood up, thrilled, "I am extending my hand in friendship to you. But like all things you have to prove yourself worthy with a small task".

Enlightening, "I want you to place this small creature on the man in your cell. Close enough to touch his skin. It will burrow inside of him, unseen, draining him from the inside. You do this for me and I will take you under my wings".

Grinning "everyone needs a protector in jail and if you have me by your side no one will ever lay a finger on you. I will be your guardian angel, so to speak".

Nero laughed, he couldn't help it. His hilarity filled the cell. Akira stepped closer to Nero who composed himself enough to talk.

"Fuck...you", his blood was going inside his left eye as it streamed down his crests.

Akira clicked his tongue and sat cross legged before him. He rested his hands on Nero's knees and parted his legs gradually. Nero felt humiliated by the demeaning gesture.

"You don't have a choice. You say no again and I will unlock the cells to the most deprived, sadistic, murderers, who thrive on acts no human being can even comprehend or phantom in their worst nightmares".

He parted them further, enjoying the views, "they will ravish your beautiful body each night until you wish for death. We will also beat you to add to your pain and suffering. Robertson has developed quite a keen interest in you".

"Pleasure and pain...pain and pleasure", his lips curled to form a sadistic smile. "I will watch you each night until you break", reaching inwards to lick Nero's inner thigh making him recoil.

Akira let go of his knees, "alternatively you can simply avoid all this pain and do as I ask of you...devil. The choice is yours".

Nero bowed his head in defeat. His soul was dead. His body just a carcass but the thought of what lay ahead was too much, even for him. He had no loyalty to the man in the cell. Kyrie was sitting behind Akira, armed with a mere crayon she sketched over the unpleasant floors crossly. It was a pretty rainbow. Her trusting eyes gazed into his and she shook her head side to side in disagreement, jabbing her tongue Akira's way. Nero smiled. Akira squinted over his shoulder, puzzled by Nero's stare. He knew the boy had no choice but to accept the offer. He was the only one who could get close enough to the other man, unnoticed. Akira had absolutely become obsessed with Vergil and wanted to act fast. His ferocious sexual appetites had come to an abrupt end now that he had met his counterpart, whom he had to have.

Peevish, "patience is certainly not one of my virtues".

Nero replied, "I'll do it", lifting his head. His face held no expression.

Akira clapped his hands elatedly and embraced him. Nero's eyes tightened at the contact. This man would suffer for what he did to him. He could get close enough to kill him, if he complied with his wishes and wins his trust. The other man would have to be the unlucky pawn. He remembered he was in solitary because of him. Akira smiled and rested a finger over Nero's lips, splitting them open with his sharp nail. He leaned in and skimmed his tongue over the cut. Nero grits his teeth in revulsion.

Akira cautioned "do as I did, when the leech appears place it on his skin. It will burrow inside, and feed on his demonic blood. He will be rendered helpless and I can finally get close to him".

Nero could feel this thing crawling under his lips. He knew he would have to achieve the task, tonight. He couldn't summon his devil. He would kill this man with his own bare hands. Do you really think you have the strength to do this without me? His devil was listening and whispering to him. You will regret your decision. Your weakness is what I hate the most. I will be the one to carry the two of us. I will always protect you. If only you would let me.

Dante was waiting inside the cell. There was no sign of the kid and the place was on lock-down. He was famished and they wouldn't be getting any dinner after the little outburst in the cafeteria. His stomach roared at full volume and he turned over in bed, cranky. A part of him wanted to throttle the kid's neck just so they can get the hell out of this stinking hole. Overhearing footsteps approaching, eyes squinting as two wardens were escorting the kid towards their cell.

Dante whispered "speak of the devil", watching intently from the top bunk.

Noticing the kids face had healed, with the exception of a fresh cut above his brow. The guards unlocked the cell and uninvolved the handcuffs. Promptly locking up and leaving for patrol. Nero browsed upwards and sat down on the bunk abruptly. He was still in two minds about what he should do next. He patted his lips. He wouldn't be able to sleep with this thing crawling under his skin. He lay down in bed, lost. When he glanced up he saw a face hanging upside down, hair dipping like snowfall.

Dante inquired "what's your name kid?"

Nero gaped in surprise. He hadn't expected the man talking to him so suddenly. He had been silent all this time and the change in his character was startling.

Dante flew down and sat on the edge of the tiny bed, both arms resting behind his head as he awaited an answer, "cat got your tongue?"

The teens face reddened openly. Dante had a good look at his clawed hand and could feel power blistering from it. It was a surge of inexorable current. Vergil was right. The teen's devil would be quite a sight to see. Dante slanted his head and made himself at ease.

Nero tucked in his legs and sat up, "the names Nero...and don't call me kid, you're not that old yourself".

Dante chuckled proudly, "youthful looks run in the family…kid".

Nero gave him an irritated look and wiped the dried blood from his brow. He was curious to know the man's name himself.

"What's your name...old man?" He emphasised the last word to aggravate him with no effect.

Dante smiled more wondering whether to give the kid his real name or an alias. Guess it wouldn't matter; they would never be able to track them. They didn't have an office and worked from hotels to take on missions. Their old man had left them a nice sum of money to fund their extracurricular activities.

"The names Dante" puffing his uncontrollable mane.

Nero flexed his claw, "thanks Dante for what you did last night".

Dante scratched his stubble in confusion. Vergil hadn't given him a clear breakdown of what had happened between the two of them.

"Don't mention it kid", he darted.

Nero smirked leaning closer, "and this is for what you did this morning".

Nero threw a punch but Dante gripped his hand. His hair gusted with impact. The kid moved fast, but he was the more experienced fighter. His cobalt eyes contracted as he met Nero's glare.

"Can't let you hit this face kid", he let go of his hand and hoisted cheerfully.

Nero caressed his skin where Dante had held him. It wasn't the same touch. This man was different. He stared down at his hand and watched Dante as he leaned against the wall. Nero met his intent look and wondered why they had changed cells. Something didn't feel right about this whole situation.

Dante asked interestedly. "What you in for kid?"

He already knew why the kid was here but it was a conversation starter. He was trying to diffuse the situation. Dante didn't want to start a fight and was here to find out more about the kids powers and abilities.

Nero knew this man was the one he had seen leaving solitary. It was not the twin Akira was after. A part of him wondered if it would make any difference. It would be a problem to keep that leech in his mouth…the whole night. He gnashed in frustration. Dante watched quietly. The kid looked panicky. Something was definitely wrong. The two continued to stare back at each other. Dante shrugged his shoulders, giving up.

"Suit yourself, you don't want to talk its fine by me" flying into bed.

Nero noted his movements were different too. This man was far more cocky and sure of himself. Being twins he must have demonic blood running through his veins. Could this be the reason he could pick up the other man's emotions before. If it was the case why couldn't he pick them up now? Preoccupied, eavesdropping on their neighbour who was weeping in the cell next door, approximately about a demon wanting to consume him. He was praying to God, over and over again. Dante groaned loudly and threw the blanket over his face. He hadn't anticipated the kid being so tight lipped.

Nero rubbed the sweat off his forehead. He was apprehensive and didn't know what to do. The thing under his skin was driving him insane. He bit down hard on his lower lip and pulled out the string. It was horrifying to think he had even let that man place it on him. It latched onto his palm and started to grow in scope. The feel of it sucking his demonic blood was nauseating. It started to burrow inside his skin but he smashed it against the wall, killing it. His face distorted in abhorrence. Nero wiped his lips clean and was about to spit the blood on the floor when he smacked into Dante's head who had chosen that exact moment to snoop from the bunk. They both groaned in pain.

Nero rubbed his nose. "What that hell is wrong with you…quit poking your head".

Dante held his forehead. The kid had a head like a rock, "you were making strange noises I thought I would check up on you", retaining innocence.

Nero lay down, resting one arm under his head. His long legs stretched out. "Whatever old man, mind your own business".

Dante leered, "let's just say kid I'm bored. Seeing as we both can't sleep, a little talk won't hurt".

Dante's head left as he lay back down in bed. Nero exhaled and inspected the blood on the wall. It had turned black and he slid a finger over it. Whatever this Akira was he would find a way to kill him. For now, there was nothing else he could do. Why do you fight me Nero? I can kill them all for you. I have always been the one to protect you, your true guardian angel. He glanced around the room, Kyrie wasn't here. He inspected his devil arm and wished he could have cut it off when he was younger. If he had, will she still be alive? Yet his devil was inside of him, hidden like a caged beast. You gave me your permission to kill her. I would never go against your will, my brother. You wanted her dead. I fulfilled your wish. Your hate for me, I will bear, until you're ready to embrace me again. Nero felt a tear leave his eye, it wasn't true. He just wanted to see her happy, wanted to be the one to shelter and give the world to. The man in the other cell had gone quiet. Perchance, God had answered his prayers.

Nero wondered "your brother what's his name?" He wanted to know more about the other man. There was something calming in his presence and in his touch when he had held his hand. It was the first time he had escaped that nightmare.

Dante was strangely quiet, he hadn't anticipated this question. The kid had figured out he was not Vergil when he had tried to punch him. He had seen his eyes widen in amazement. Dante didn't know whether he wanted to tell him anything about Vergil, including his name. Then again…he smirked impishly when he understood he could bless his brother with a brand new name. "Pfft", he chuckled at the endless possibilities of strange names that would make Vergil wince. The look would be priceless. He remembered their family pet and decided on that. Vergil despised that pooch.

"Vincent, you can call him Vinny for short, he loves it".

Nero swiped his lips and sat up, "your devil trigger, how do you control it?"

Dante's head re-appeared, befuddled. Vergil had exposed his devil-trigger to the kid? He wondered what his brother had planned. Dante's eyes tempered when they caught Nero's earnest face. The kid looked wrecked and was only 20. Dante and Vergil had always had each other to be able to cope with this crazy demonic blood. No matter how bad things got when they were growing up, he knew he could always count on his older brother for the answers. The hunter had someone in his life to walk by his side, an individual, who harmonized his footprints. The one he loved and cherished the most.

Dante answered quietly. "The devil-trigger is pure demonic energy, which your body taps into. Essentially kid, it is the closest thing to what you dad probably looked like as a demon. In terms of control, you just got to avoid losing yourself to it".

Nero smiled sadly. He was quiet for some time before he spoke again. "I don't have control over it like you do…it's like a separate entity to me", eyes scraping his devil arm.

Dante flew down stylishly, occupying the bunk again. Nero realised this twin had no perception of personal space. Yet it felt good to be talking to someone who seemed completely normal in his eyes. He would never admit this to himself but the sight of these twins had given him new hope.

Dante propped on his elbow. "You're conflicted kid, if you don't know what you want the devil will make the decisions for you and usually their very poor ones. Any decision when you're not in your senses will usually fall under this category".

The red devil abstracted, "kind of like being drunken kid, you know if you're going to get wasted you better hope for plan B. In case shit-hits-the-fan and you get carried away".

Nero smirked slightly he had never drunk before. They never had enough money for food let alone drinks, "what's plan B"?

Dante puffed out, "you get a designated driver to get your ass home, safe and sound".

Nero tilted his head in thought "someone who can pull you back", he understood.

Dante poked his thigh with his elbow, "bingo. Someone you have a strong enough bond with, to remind you and your devil to behave".

Nero closed his eyes and could see her beautiful face, she smiled back at him. Kyrie was hiding behind a cherry blossom tree…that white dress was still...He had killed that one person in his life that could pull him back. It was too late for him. Nero felt his throat squeeze and chest tighten, he held back his tears forcefully. He didn't want to cry in front of Dante. When he opened them Dante was gone. He had already seen his tears and wanted to give him some privacy.

Nero lay back down in bed "you're lucky to have your designated driver Dante".

Dante grinned at the kid's statement, "we all have one kid, and you just haven't found yours yet", optimistic.

Nero curled up on the bunk and placed the blanket closer to his body "I wish that was…true" he repudiated. It was weird but he was beginning to find sleep again. He knew the nightmares would be waiting for him, embracing them.

Dante stroked the back of his neck which was beginning to burn. He scratched his skin in exasperation wondering how many bedbugs were lurking inside these old and grimy mattresses. He was oddly tired himself. They both fell asleep. Neither had noticed that the black splatter on the wall had reformed and found its luckless host. The parasite had latched onto Dante's skin and was already devouring his sacred life-force.


	6. The Rookie

Leon hopped out of the window, and in the swing of things, attuned his uniform. His white socks getting wet by the a.m. dew. He had only managed to take a few steps on the soft lawn when he received a hard thwack to the back of his head, "mph", closing his navy eyes, dirty blonde hair moderately layering his lovely face. Amused, "women" the snide comment, gliding on the apparent missile; his missing shoe, tucking the laces roughly. She hurled another one from the opening. He caught it in his right hand reflexes undoubtedly fast, lean catlike body and unusually tall frame gazing up at her. For all her aggressive efforts the gentlemen below was remorseful.

"I would have told you earlier sweetheart…I just didn't get the chance", amending his black tie.

The stiff uniform was smothering him. He wondered how wardens were expected to carry out their duties in such dynamic formal attire. His black pants and white shirt slightly creased from their lovers scuffle.

The girl screamed, "Leon Scott Kennedy may you burn in hell", dark hair in disarray, tears streaking her eyes.

She wiped her snot and threw the last of his uniform, a black hat. He caught without effort. She gave him a middle finger for his flaunting and slammed the window shut.

Leon weighed, "first day on the job and already cursed", slipping on the other shoe.

A familiar care horned in gesture. The black Land Rover was parked close by. Chris watched the whole scene with a look of oddity. Leon tripped over his shoe laces but prevented a humiliating fall. Chris scrutinised him, head to toe, disparagingly, one hand gliding through thick black tresses in a combo of nervousness and maternal worry, making Leon's slender grin line up.

"I can explain", he descended into the passenger seat and making sure to buckle-up prior to the pending lecture.

"No need" the quiet reply.

Chris ignited the engine of his monstrous car and carefully pulled towards the highway. Leon distinguished he wasn't wearing his uniform today. Clad in restrained black jeans, boots, and a red polo-neck top. Showing-off his well-built torso and trained arms, his friend was the ladies favourite, clean-cut and disciplined, dark eyes focused on the road ahead. Leon felt bad that Chris had taken the day off, just for him. He didn't have a ride and the prison was at least three hours' drive, out of urban. The name was so vague he had forgotten it. It was almost 6 a.m. Leon elevated his leg over the dashboard and neatened his shoelaces. Chris inspected him once again. Leon browsed his way casually and could tell he hadn't slept, unidentified bags under his eyes the hint.

"I'll be fine Chris, you don't need to worry" smooth and incautious.

Chris checked his watch in rejoinder. Leon rested a hand under his chin, took off his hat and accustomed his hair. They were both quiet. It was a cloudy day but the breeze felt good. It was remarkably hot for September. They were still enjoying some decent weather.

Leon tilted his head towards his best friend, "congratulations on your promotion".

Mutually their fathers were police officers and had worked together for a long time. They had been a close knit family from the very beginning and had practically grown up together. They attended the same High School, College and University, communal goals, to be a part of the legendary S.T.A.R.S unit, Alpha and Bravo, the most prestigious tactical and rescue unit in the whole country. The competition was fierce and only a hand full of elite candidates was selected from hundreds of talented officers. Chris had made it into the Alpha team. Leon hadn't. He had failed his entrance exams, twice, and as expected everything went downhill after that. He was 25 and at this rate going nowhere. Leon was under pressure and a little envious of Chris not that he would ever admit it. He had wanted to fulfil his father's last wish and be a part of S.T.A.R.S unit. The motivation was fading with time. A part of him felt like a true let-down. He exhaled and took in the unending infertile earth. Maybe, he didn't have what it takes to merit such an elite team. Chris inspected his face and knew exactly what he was feeling. They were close.

"Look, Leon, I have already spoken to the head of my division and they have agreed to let you re-take the entrance exams".

Leon wasn't surprised. Chris was always trying to help him out using his internal contacts. He didn't know how to feel about the 'helping-hand', occupied by the empty road, unsure what to say.

Chris's eyes tempered. "You got the highest scores on the physical…even better than mine. You got what it takes to make it. Just, study harder for the exam" cheering.

Everyone respected Chris. He was one of the youngest members of the S.T.A.R.S unit, also the most dependable. His skill in combat and exams had been brilliant.

Leon reacted, "well at least I beat you in something".

He had trained as a black belt in Taekwondo. His favourite weapon had always been a knife since he favoured hand-to-hand combat.

Chris placed a thumb against his lip, one hand resting on the wheel. "Just slug it out here for a few months, until you get some decent references. I know I talked you into this but it'll prove to be a good combination of managerial and corrections involvement".

Leon had only agreed to this little arrangement because Chris had lectured him non-stop. He wondered why his friend hadn't considered the military. He would have made one hell of a good Captain, a natural born leader. Leon on the other hand had glitches with operating under authority figures. He preferred to make his own judgment calls, to some degree, that approach, had cost him countless jobs. He followed by heart and instinct and acted on it regardless of the ramifications. His actions were misinterpreted for arrogance when he was simply a strong believer in moral justice over prescribed laws.

Leon definitely had zero personal interest in becoming a prison warden. Dealing with petty criminals who were already incarcerated was not in the least bit exciting. It was however a stepping stone while he prepared for the exams. And above, he needed the cash. The money was decent and he had already found a new place to rent closer to the prison. Chris had helped him with the move. His girlfriend hadn't taken the news well. He didn't want to break her heart but there was no way he was going to be in a long distance relationship. It was not his style, which reminded him of a lingering question. The only time he could gain the upper hand over Chris.

Leon snooped. "How's Jill your sexy partner...made a move yet?"

Chris gripped the wheel harder, avoiding his eyes, "it's purely professional. She's my partner, that's it".

Leon pestered, "I heard she is a master of 'unlocking' Chris".

Chris couldn't help the annoying smile breaking his lips, "it's purely professional", managing to end the conversation about his private affairs.

Claire, Chris's younger sister had also found a decent job working for an N.G.O. She was promoted for her work and became a Goodwill Ambassador for the UN. Everyone had found their true calling, excepting Leon. The two of them had accelerated and left him behind. He felt as if he was wasting his young years and gifted aptitudes…hopeless. He placed a finger to his mouth and chewed his nail. Joining the army was out of the question. He couldn't handle the blind orders and fighting for a cause he didn't believe in. A part of him wanted to turn back, but he didn't want to disappoint Chris. How bad could this job really be? After a few months he could resign. Chris relaxed his elbow and Leon could tell he was tense. Knowing Chris he probably spent the entire day researching the prison inside and out, including, the number of wardens that may have been hurt and killed by prisoners. Chris's mind was on perpetual overdrive. He could never switch off like Leon. Second guessing the dialogue before it was openly disclosed.

"Leon, I know you can handle you but just remember. These prisoners hate wardens. They got nothing to lose. Just be on guard".

Leon laughed quietly "yes Sir".

Chris's serious stare spoken for, "I mean it Leon. Any sign of being soft and they will use it against you. The men inside these cells are nothing but scum".

Leon leaned his head closer to the window, letting the breeze kiss his skin. "I'd be petty pissed Chris if I had to spend the rest of my life behind bars".

Chris grew irritated, "their murderers, rapists, and thugs, nothing more nothing less. Don't forget it".

Leon fastened his eyes, blonde hair raging against the wind. He hadn't slept well last night. He was nervous too about going into a new place, unrehearsed. Leon knew all too well it would never meet his expectations, dozing off and awaking when the car came to an abrupt halt. Eyes drifting open to large black gates and barbed wire. The sight of his new office was troubling. He remembered the name, "Old Gate Prison". Chris's unwavering stare was fixed on the large gates. He glanced at the guards who didn't bother opening the gate for his vehicle. A warden came over and Chris flashed his badge in impatience.

"Open up", he ordered the man on duty. The S.T.A.R.S unit had access to all government sites in all districts; they could bypass security at all venues.

"Sorry Sir we're having problems with the front gate".

Chris opened his mouth to speak but Leon cut him off, "it's alright Chris. I can walk the rest of the way", unfastening the seatbelt and swinging the door open.

Chris gripped his arm, "be careful and remember…try to follow orders", worried.

Leon smiled, "you got nothing to worry about", easing.

Chris gripped his elbow stiffer, "be careful and watch your back. I mean it".

Leon positioned the black hat onto his head and made his way inside the gates. He glanced back at Chris who was still parked up. He knew he wouldn't leave until he entered the penitentiary. He marched inside, without a second glance. The guard who had been patrolling the front gates strode him inside active corridors. A few officers were enjoying a tea break and chatting loudly. The man who was accompanying him picked up a baton and a black jacket from behind a desk, shoving both items into Leon's chest with a thump. Leon gazed and held, behaving. He wasn't supposed to be doing anything today apart from meeting with HR for a consultation about the job and a briefing about his weekly schedules. Leon slid the jacket on and placed the baton inside his hand. He followed after the small middle-aged man who hadn't even troubled introducing himself, stating.

"You're going to have to fill in for someone. Ask for Officer Robertson when you go through the next set of security checks". He pointed towards the doors and left Leon stranded in the middle of the passageway.

Leon noticed "talk about a warm welcome", taking his sweet time to get through the next set of barriers and checks lead by three ill-disposed guards.

Leon wouldn't be making any friends, any time soon. Gaining access to be welcomed by an even more inauspicious man who was awaiting his influx, sadly matching his blonde hair but that was where the similarities thankfully ended. Thin lips scrunched, green eyes measuring.

Robertson started on a brisk walk. "You must be Kennedy".

Leon matched his stride, "Sir...I haven't had a proper induction".

Robertson snubbed taking him straight into perdition. Leon could see a pool of blood on the green floor. He stopped brusquely to inspect it. The officer kept moving, leaving him behind. A loud beeping sound made his heart pulsate. He gazed up to find the cell doors had unexpectedly opened to all the convicts. There was low chattering and shuffling as the prisoners stepped out of their cells. His eyes fell above the connecting staircase. All of the men were eyeing him with a look of captivation. This was the hottest warden they had ever seen, loud whistles and hoots of appreciation, forthcoming. Leon was getting a very warm welcome from the drooling detainees. Who were by now making obscene gestures with their tongues and hands to get his attention?

"Hell, if only all the wardens looked like you motherfucker, we wouldn't leave", a man with tattoos heckled him.

A fat warden intervened, "surprise inspections ladies, move your asses".

Leon stood confused when a hand wrapped his shoulder. "You're with me…so try to keep up" Robertson notified.

Leon desponded, "Sir, the blood could be a health and safety issue".

Robertson glanced at the blood, "an inmate ripped a warden's throat. We still have a job to do, to find any weapons that can prevent further attacks on our staff". He stepped closer to Leon, "safety and following procedure is our first and main priority…rookie. I need you to carry out the inspections, with me. You have any questions, ask".

Leon met his angry stare, "yes Sir", he finished politely.

Robertson nodded his head and Leon followed after him. He handed him transparent gloves and he slid them on without question. They started by checking the small crevices, beds, and toilets where small weapons could be stashed. They came across a few home-made toothbrushes sharpened to a knife point. He collected these in a clear plastic bag. It was gruelling work and some of the cells were…filthy.

"I hate you Chris", he cursed under his breathe and placed the mattress back on what seemed to be the fiftieth time.

Leon remained quiet in the company of his superior. He didn't like this guy and something in his manner had rubbed him the wrong way. Leon knew this man must have served time in the military. He could tell with the way he carried himself. Soldiers were a different cup of tea compared to ordinary cops like him. They had a superiority complex. Having served and killed for their country. So they thought. War was never just. He rubbed his tired back and made his way to the next cell when a young teen caught his eye. The silvery hair was strange. He walked towards him as he vanished inside his prison cell. Leon stepped inside to find the adolescence standing next to the bunk bed anxiously, one hand resting on the sleeping man's forehead who was his inmate. Leon couldn't see his face, just his long legs overextended.

Robertson woofed "what the hell is going on here?"

Leon treaded away from Robertson who had annoyingly stepped in. There was no space to move inside the tiny cell and he didn't like people invading his private space, especially this guy, eyes flowing over the bunk getting a better view of the man lying down…shocked…were they brothers? Could be? Yet the man on the bunk was definitely older, spotting his awkward inhalations. The guy was probably sick. His snowy hair was perspiring so heavily it was clinging to his forehead which was glistening with moisture. Leon shuffled, startled by the loud crash that had occurred with his back turned. Robertson had struck the teen whose forehead was oozing blood. Robertson inflicted another blow, striking him in the mouth. Nero's head smacked against the wall. Robertson raised the baton again to repeat when Leon gripped his wrist leaving his senior dumbfounded.

Leon gazed down at the teen that was clutching his face in agony, "Sir, I think he has had...enough".

Robertson was incensed. He removed Leon's hand from his wrist, "you are under my command, you understand, this is your first and only mistake".

Leon didn't want to lose his cool. He stepped back to create distance between them, "sorry Sir it won't happen again" his voice, body and say, easy and reassuring.

The warden had a temper like a mad dog and Leon had had the pleasure of dealing with men like this before. They took advantage of the power they possessed over these men and would use them as punching bags to ease their own frustrations. It appeared to be a trait that he had found to be quite prevalent amongst his colleagues. Pricks were abundant in these kinds of roles.

Nero spat the blood from his mouth and gazed at the young officer who was watching him with troubled eyes. The teen traced his jacket for his name but he wasn't wearing one. Nero was caught in a new nightmare, glancing at the wall. He had fucked up. The black splatter was gone. He had realized too late that the leech had delved inside Dante, as he slept. It had been draining him all night of his demonic blood, mortified.

Nero whispered to the kindly officer "please, he-help him", pointing up.

Dante looked terrible. The leech wouldn't stop until it had drained him to the core. If Dante died Nero would never forgive himself. He bit his full lips to stop the tears when he thought about his identical brother, overcome, and hurt, he stepped outside the tormenting cells without another word. He couldn't bear to see the sight of Dante, sensing overwhelming guilt and remorse.

Robertson was viewing Leon formally. "Finish off the inspection here and get this one up, report to me when you're finished".

He stepped outside and stood in front of Nero. Nero turned away revolted.

Robertson spat payback. "Can't keep running away you little shit. I haven't forgotten your cheap shot. Don't think that you can hide behind Akira either". He scorned and walked towards the adjacent cell.

Nero smeared his bleeding, distraught. He watched the blood dripping like rain onto the floor "what have I done", in loss.

He contemplated the heavens above and was struck by the acquainted eyes staring downwards. The man that should have been occupying his cell was watching him. His high cheekbones and jaws were contracted in thought. How could be mistake the two? They were so very, very, different. Nero averted this man's perceptions, as if they could see straight into his rotten soul. He felt ashamed. Kyrie held his clawed hand and stared up at the seraph above. She hunched on the floors and looked at Nero's blood which sustained to drop from his face.

"He is coming", disappearing.

Nero could still feel her soft hand inside his own. He had no one left to turn to. He eyed the bloodied devil caged in the opposite cell as he waved with malicious intents, whispering a false prayer.

"Brother release…me".

Vergil was waiting for his brother to exit the cell. Eyes unblinking in longing, his heart apace, something was wrong. Minutes passed like hours.

Akira was admiring him from a distance. He could recognize his beloved from the crowd of shit that occupied this netherworld. He had already figured out the beautiful twins must have swapped cells last night. Daring to come and stand beside Vergil who was strangely unguarded. Akira was ecstatic about the current prospects. Who knew things would work out this well? The little devil he had hired was a cunning fox who had achieved to attack this man's heart? Whether by error or coincidence, he had out done himself.

"My, my…your sweet brother seems to be in distress" hyperactive.

Vergil's eyes betrayed nothing, "I'm sure my idiotic brother can handle the matter, without my interference?"

Akira closed his eyes to the rigorous sound of Vergil's say as if it was a sweet symphony. He felt his heart beat faster for the first time in decades. He had an ace card on him and the things he had planned for this man made his mouth slaver audaciously.

"If you want to save him I suggest you find me before the end of the day" procuring his prize.

Grinning at Nero, "he won't last another night without my help".

Akira gauged Vergil for a return who unremittingly stared at the bars, impassively. These icy eyes were so very cruel. Akira had seen something inside of them the first day they had met…blackness…death…destruction. Vergil stepped away from the staircase so he could no longer see what was transpiring beneath.

"Let him die" the verdict.

Akira's smile stonewashed, anger surging he slammed his hand on the railing.

Vergil ridiculed "what's wrong? Do you really think I care for him? I have no weakness you can exploit…demon", arrogantly assessing Akira with a look of repugnance. "Your…pathetic", Vergil accentuated the last word making Akira pop the vein on his forehead in vehemence.

Akira withdrew, degraded. He made his way towards his lockup. A part of him was convinced Vergil was bluffing. Would he really let his brother die? How evil? Yet he had firmly declined his help. He identified, at this time, he was madly in love with this man and he would just have to try a little bit harder to obtain him. Akira gestured with his hand to one of the wardens who came on the trot.

"Get on your speaker-mic and instruct all staff on duty to stay away from that cell". He pointed a finger below.

The frightened warden followed his hand and stuttered. "I ah...think the new fella Kennedy is inspecting that one..."

Akira riveted his chin roughly and the man's eyes enlarged, "even better, when he dies blame it squarely on the incompetency of the new recruit".

Akira leaned into the man's face, touching noses, "is that clear?"

The man quivered with fear but he managed to nod his head. Akira patted his cheek like a dog and glimpsed at Vergil.

"Let's see if you speak the truth my love", he blew a kiss in his direction and bowed his head in reverence.

Vergil eyed the steel floor, chest and throat clutched "Dante please be..."

They would never stop pursuing his younger brother if he had disclosed him as his weakness. But if anything happened to him...Vergil banished the thought from his mind. Dante was strong and would never leave his side. He self-possessed and waited unwaveringly.

Leon by this point had raised Dante's shirt and was examining his body which was enclosed in purple and red bruises. The man had suffered internal injuries and needed immediate medical attention. He had responded to countless accidents as a cop to know these major finer points.

"Just my freaking luck" he murmured with impatience when a scorching hand cupped his face.

Dante whispered a happy greeting, "hey bro".

Leon's ridges creased in muddle, "bro?" This guy was obviously delusional but at least he was awake. Checking his indigo's that were a pale blue when his hat was indecently bumped off his head, Leon's eyes narrowed in disbelief at his hair coming under attack. Dante was trying to smooth it back with no luck. Leon gripped his hands, the hair was off limits. Dante grouch and Leon couldn't help but smirk at the peculiarity of his touches and the affection behind them. As if he was entitled to this unusual behaviour.

Dante moaned. "This hair Verge is what...bothers...me".

Leon helped lift him up with one arm. The man weighed a tonne, "can you walk?" fixing the irritating baton to his belt.

Dante didn't retort, dazed, sliding his long legs across the bed and onto the floor. He located one unsteady hand on the walls to balance himself, before throwing up, insides burning. Dante was in agony and had never felt such agonizing pain. He coughed and wiped his lips, eyeing the bright red splatters visible on his fingertips. Leon held his back in fear. Dante lifted his shirt to inspect his flesh but Leon rapt his hand and lowered his top. He didn't want the man to go into shock. His training had given him enough knowledge to know how to deal with trauma and people afflicted by it.

Dante gasped, "I feel…fucked", nearing collapse.

Leon gripped him firmly about the waist before he could fall, "that's one way of putting it", he re-joined sympathetically.

Dante's smile faded at their close proximity. He inspected his uniform and scrubbed his eyes. He tried to step away in his slip-up.

Leon wrapped him. "It's OK...just hang on", what the hell was he going to do. All the wardens had inexplicably died out counting his asshole supervisor. They were alone.

He checked his jacket pockets and located a white whistle, mind rationalising the plausible reasons behind the stupid and useless equipment. He needed assistance and they had given him zippo.

Losing his cool, "what the hell is this the 1960's?"

Leon sighed and blew the damn whistle. He waited a few seconds and tried again. Dante groaned and slapped it out of his mouth. Leon frowned. Dante's eyes constricted. He leaned into his ear and understood.

"Hey Blondie…your killing me here with that annoying thing…no one is coming".

Dante groaned in pain. Leon held him closer, "then I will take you myself, can't have you dying on my watch makes me look real bad".

The hunter chuckled quietly, "first day on the job huh...sucks?"

Leon joined in, "that obvious?"

Dante's head limped frontward, "yeah...you're not an asshole like the others".

Leon opened his mouth in agreement when he felt something warm spray onto his skin. He gazed at Dante in tremor. The blood had spurted from his neck. Dante stumbled backwards in surprise, clutching his wound, sliding down the wall. His hands were roofed in fresh blood. It felt as if something was scuttling inside his skin, he had to rip it open. Dante commenced to shred his flesh. Leon rushed to stop him. Dante held him off with one hand to the chest. He had never met anyone who could have overpowered him. This man held otherworldly strength.

"Stop", Leon bawled.

Dante refused, peeling away at his flesh to reach the cause of his pain. He knew now something was feeding on him it was not his mind's eye. Nero heard Leon and snapped out of his trance. He turned to face the cell and was perplexed by the sight of Dante's bloodied body. He was going to kill himself. Leon tried to seize Dante's hands when the teen grappled him to the floor from behind. He was strong. Kind face whispered resolve. Dante flayed in agony, blood seeping through small holes which were appearing all over his skin and face.

Nero held him down, "hang in their old man", desperately trying to pull him back.

Dante stopped hostile beneath him, breathes slowing, bleeding out. Nero was still gripping him tightly when he heard a voice inside his head. I can save him Nero, for you, release me my brother. Nero placed a trembling hand onto his chest. Dante's blood was all over his hands and face. He was a murderer. It doesn't have to be this way, let me save him Nero. The devil's voice was pacifying his vacant soul, wanting to believe the words of his protector, brother, and friend. Let me prove myself to you. Familiar lips traced his cheek, claw on his jaw. Nero opened his eyes to find his bloodied devil. He started to cry and buried his face into his denim jacket, gripping it tightly with both hands in release. The devil enclosed him.

Nero pleaded "save him".

The infernos were spreading through the village. Nero couldn't feel the heat of these flames. His small body was sheltered by potent arms. His devil would never abandon him, his devil was his heart and soul, and his devil accepted him for who he was…a monster…say yes Nero, the whispers submersing.

"Yes", Nero unburdened.

The devil kissed his lips, "as...you...wish".

Leon took off his tie and wrapped it around Dante's bleeding neck. Nero's hands fell abruptly to his sides, releasing their hold over the red devil that was nearing unconsciousness. Leon gazed up at Nero regulating his irregular inhalations, placing an encouraging and fairly thankful hand over his shoulder.

"Good work", appreciative. Leon was grateful the teen had turned up when he had.

Nero opened his eyes and grinned, clutching Leon's hand inside his own, holding him in place. Leon stared enquiringly. The gesture was overly aggressive. He retracted his hand but Nero gripped his wrist. Raising his head and meeting his stare, crimson eyes that resembled a pool of blood were deciding his doom. Leon froze, mouth widening, he couldn't look away from what he was seeing. How could this be real? He couldn't help but watch in doubt as the teen raised his other hand that was set ablaze by rubicund bonfires. The heat seared his mane but even so he didn't budge. It felt like a daydream. How could it possibly be the reality? Nero's devil arm pulsed into being before dubious eyes.

Leon asked, clueless, "what...are you?"

Nero growled a singular reply, "death".

Leon let the word sink. This was real. Cold sweat broke out all over his body. He was going to die. Body reacting, he tried one final time to get rid of the steely grip around his wrist but Nero applied bone crunching pressure, his smile widening. Leon stopped struggling and gazed at Dante who elevated his head as if he could sense the looming danger. They stared at each other. Leon felt oddly calm, only regret, that he had failed in his final duties.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect y.."

The flames shot out of Nero's body and Leon closed his eyes to them. Who would have thought his ex-girlfriends wish would come true and he would most certainly burn.


	7. The Flames

Leon browsed the large hall, mildly alert, the flipping of paper sheets, the ticking of time, the urgent scribbling of pens, the gloomy silence, brows wrinkling as everybody else devotedly had their heads down and were scrawling away, excluding him. He gazed up at the clock, it was almost 2 p.m. He checked the papers in front of him.

"You got to be…!"

He hadn't prepared for the question paper, skimming quickly, he tried to answer the first question…hopelessly stuck. He didn't know the solution…skipping hastily to try another, despondently reading and sighing in modest defeat. Nightmares really did come true.

"You got ten minutes" the auxiliary mandate.

A much acquainted voice spoke the instructions, loud and clear, from the front of the exam hall, it was Chris. He was wearing a pair of black designer frames, navy blue pants and a black shirt, pacing quietly through the hall towards whom else but him, one hand gliding inside his pocket signalling trouble.

"Just my luck" the silent nod.

Why Chris was supervising theses exams was anyone's guess? It didn't make any sense. Feeling uncomfortably hot and unquestionably flustered, definitely feeling the added pressure.

"Can't say I didn't try" tapping his useless pen over the blank answer box.

Leon loosened a few buttons on his white shirt, perspiring heavily, possibly from the prospects of imminent failure which was by now looming over his head. A strange feeling of smothering dazed his cool character. He started to cough noisily. A few students distracted by the noise turned to glare his way to which he raised his hand peacefully. Dampness bucketing out of his body wringing his shirt, mop adhering to his temple as if he was enjoying a session in a thermal bath, he was scorching, quite literally. In his bid to reduce the coughing fit he picked up the examination paper and started to use it as a fan. Was he suffering a panic-attack? Could be? Chris offered his best frown to make him feel shittier. Leon didn't care by this point and was ready for assistance. Chris crudely snatched the paper out of his hand, look of disappointment in his eyes evidently noticeable.

"Leon...what the hell is this?"

Slamming the blank paper on the desk, Leon paused, chest heaving to talk? He cleared his throat and proceeded to remove his shirt and wipe his drenched face with it.

"Well", cough, cough, "Chris...I think I can honestly say that this time I was…unprepared".

Chris eyes narrowed in dismay. He had seen that look on his friends face countless times yet it still gave him the shudders. He tried to be charming as a replacement for being a failure.

"You know the glasses really suit you" nodding.

Chris ignored, taking out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He offered one to Leon, who declined it immediately, eyes stinging. The S.T.A.R.S choice member lit up the joint and took an adequate drag gusting the smoke in Leon's face who was about to buckle over from effect.

"Times up…rookie" the sophisticated remark as Chris set his paper on fire.

Leon recalled, "Chris…you don't smoke". Out-of-focus eyes fixed over the flames. They were compelling…he had seen these bonfires once.

Chris let the burnt paper fall to the floor, "neither of us does", gravely taking another drag.

Leon beamed, "what a relief".

He tossed the shirt on the ground to find all the students were now standing and glaring…right at him. The look on their faces was petrifying…they were all smiling…disfigured…mutilated, as if they were being burned alive by invisible flames. Leon tried to stand but someone clutched his fingertips, a tiny child with a bed of white hair was hiding under his desk.

"What!" he jolted trying to open his locked eyes.

"Don't...move", a gruff male voice urged with bated breaths.

He felt a weight crushing against his legs, head forced against a wall. He had hit it hard. His hazy eyes slit to capture a blinding light, when a warm hand shielded them shut, a heave of voltage coursed through his entire body as if he had been electrocuted. A touch scrubbed against his cheek and twisted a jet of wind so potent his whole body felt the cool air against his boiling skin. They were wings…he was sure of it. The hand no longer felt human, it was made of otherworldly flesh, chilling his tender and disorientated insights. The pins so sharp, his human flesh was bleeding from where they relaxed.

Leon stilled from momentary shock but he had to ascertain the facts. Trembling palms opened and his fingers deciphered the puzzle of the unfathomable chest he was squeezed in the middle of. A part of him was afraid to look at what was holding him, it was not human. His fingers folded inside his palms and his head limped forward. His knees bent against this things body. He could feel the prevailing rise and fall of its imperial chest, hear the intensifying sound of its beating heart. This specific dream seemed real enough.

Dante had used the last bit of his strength to trigger his devil. He was submerged by Nero's overwhelming flames and was guarding Leon's body, with his own. He had hoped the kid would lose his trigger, in due course, but now realised he could stay in it for as long as he freaking wanted. The weird part was, these scorching fires were soothing his ruined skin...he was curing. The same couldn't be said for Blondie, who would be grilled bread by now and he couldn't stay in his trigger forever. His devil was hostile, having sensed the danger behind him. Yet starting a full on fight, like this, was out of the question. Dante's strength was dwindling and his lifeblood wasn't rejuvenating. Whatever had indulged on him was still intimately stored between his fleshes. He closed his eyes at the sickening thought, but not for long. The surrounding light was too dazzlingly beautiful to look away, hooked.

Dante slanted his head in his unwarranted location when he felt a hand clasp his shoulder. It was the kid. Nero was kneeling beside him. Dante revealed his white fangs as a show of dominance. Nero was unfazed trailing Dante's face with his claw, crimson eyes lidded…their heated breathes stirring between their lips. He was riveted to have found another devil, like himself, his hands stroking the jet black wings which were shielding Leon. They had formed a cocoon around him. Dante couldn't even tell if he was still alive. His body had gone limp. Unlike his human skin, his forbidding armour of red and black scales was immune to most things. Even his devil wouldn't have survived inside these flames if the kid had chosen to set the temperature any higher. A part of him remembered what he had read about their little saviour. His flames would not burn the righteous but offer healing. Dante was going to find out the hard way if those crazy villagers were onto something or not.

Nero solved, "Brother, I will not hurt you, we are the same", the words echoed next to his ear in a sincere and deep voice.

Nero kissed Dante's cheek, his human hand still inspecting the wings lovingly. The sound of the flames was that of a cyclone. Dante's skin began to flash behind the armour of scales. He couldn't hold his trigger any longer.

"Why do you protect this human...they are nothing but worthless beings who need to be crushed", pausing to inhale the red devil's concentrated scent. "They are killers...blood thirsty murderers...he doesn't want to remember but I can never forget".

Dante opened his eyes to Nero's disputes. He could feel the anger, hate, and sorrow in these heated verses. The kid was crying. He had blood tears coming out of his crimson eyes, streaking his pastel skin. Nero's devil was crying…he had never seen anything like it, stunned. The sight of them filled his own heart with grief as if he could feel the kid's ache and hurt. The two were coupled inside these passionate combustions.

"I couldn't protect her from them…they took her away from me". Nero restored his brow against Dante's, "she hid me...from them, they...burned...her alive…our beautiful…mo…mother". He inspected his devil arm and tilted his head, "humans are the true parasites of our world".

Nero's blood tears stained Dante's shoulder that flinched as his skin burned a painful hole. Nero dipped a talon inside and dragged out a long black leech, the size of a small snake. He held it as it whipped in his controlling grips…round mouth full of razor sharp teeth. It had no eyes…blind. They watched as it screeched and char to dust. Nero encountered Dante's crimson eyes and whispered the words.

"It was going to eat your heart my brother, but filth shall perish under my touch".

Dante was solidified gobsmacked. His skin was soothing inside these flames. He had never felt so at ease. All his old battle scars from the demons he had fought as a devil hunter were gone. The kid truly had a gift. He had never witnessed power like this before.

Vergil was still standing next to his cell when he saw the striking light. The other prisoners had seen it too. They were deadly afraid. The sound of a loud microphone swiftly caught their diverted attention. Everyone gazed upwards as the rather annoying voice reverberated through every corner of the old prison.

"Hello everyone...quite a show we are putting on today, just for your entertainment".

It was Akira. Vergil sneered.

Akira smiled more as he zoomed into Vergil's face using the cameras they had installed around the jail. He whirled around in his chair still holding the speaker in one hand, one leg resting over the chair.

"The gorgeous boy on fire is working for me. So you know the rules, all of you better behave, even more", he giggled.

"I want all you regular humans to walk into the cafeteria and pretend that you see...nothing".

The prisoners gazed back at each other uneasily. The wardens re-emerged to introduce order.

"You heard the man, get moving".

The prisoners lined up awkwardly and as directed didn't even bother glancing at the illuminating cell. They lived in constant fear and anyone who spoke out had died brutally. No one from the outside world would believe them. They were trapped animals. Everyone was a slave to the rules inside this prison set by Akira and there was no escape. They were already institutionalized behind these walls and no one gave a fuck about them on the outside. Akira leaned against the monitor. His shadowy eyes never leaving the expressionless face of the big-headed twin that gave away nothing in his unblinking gaze.

"As for you my sweet, please feel free to inspect your beloved brother's ashes. You were very naughty today so a little punishment is…justified" lustfully dripped.

He caught a blaze of ire in those unemotional eyes, making his grin even wider. Akira stroked his skin in thirst he had never known. He felt a hand on his shoulder, grin dying, his good mood taking a full dip at the sight of the clingy warden. A part of him was getting frustrated enough to be rid of this pest but he had proved to be a great asset in his little set-up. Robertson was still useful…for now.

Akira acted, "shouldn't you be on duty?"

Robertson's hurt face looked away. His eyes fell on the screen which had the face of the secretive man who had yet to say a single word to him. It was becoming clear Akira's interest in this gent was rising out of control.

"Uh huh", Akira wagged his fingers. "He is off limits to that baton of yours", deliberately teasing Robertson making him glare more at the screen.

Akira raised his rugged body from the chair and positioned Robertson's hand around his waist. "Come here my sweet", stroking the scar on his cheek and leaning in for a kiss.

"Not like this", Robertson whispered aroused, eyes gazing down at Akira's body.

Akira's smile stonewashed, he gripped his face roughly, "just this one time, after this, do as I ask without question".

Akira clicked his finger, transforming his body to the female version of himself. His long hair grew past his shoulders falling down to his shapely waist. Eyelashes growing longer, lips becoming fuller, high cheekbones softening. He was a hermaphrodite and had both male and female sex organs. As an incubus he had to feed on the desires of the flesh. In front of Robertson now stood a tall beautiful woman in the height of her youth and beauty, full hour glass figure and breasts hidden under the ugly prison uniform.

"Get it over with", she hurried.

Robertson felt himself harden, he fumbled with his pants, breathing unsteady. Akira turned around. Her eyes engrossed on the screen. She felt Robertson tug her pants off and snarled at him in irritation but permitted him to penetrate her from behind, tolerating the greedy hands that were rubbing and groping her breasts, slipped beneath her shirt. Robertson thrust harder, stifling his moans. Akira gripped the monitor table, her eyes never leaving the screen. Who would have thought she would yearn to show her true form to a man only worthy of it. She wondered if he had already seen through her illusion. It could be her female form could win him over. Her hair fell forward onto her face and she laughed. Every man has a weakness and she would find his.

Vergil watched the prisoners being marched towards the canteen. He flew down from the staircase and walked towards the cell. He could feel the heat biting into his skin like a lava pit. He could see the bars melting. He covered his eyes with his hands, his body urging him to turn back but his heart pulling him towards the flames. Vergil walked into the searing infernos without hesitation, hair and skin charring, his demonic blood not healing his skin fast enough. His eyes adjusted to the light and he could see two people crouching near the floors.

"Dante", Vergil's soft voice cut through the air. Dante was relieved. Vergil had finally come. His brother would know what to do. Nero turned around to face Vergil. All this had taken over a span of a few minutes but it had felt like an eternity. Vergil gripped the bar to steady himself, his skin melting to it. He pried it away and stood in front of Nero. His sapphire eyes firmly glaring back at him. He could see the blood tears. Devils never cried. The sight of them perplexed even him. Nero moved closer diffidently, closing the gap between their bodies. He gazed down at Vergil's hand which was burning…just like his body. The blue devil refused to trigger.

Dante roared "what that hell you doing Verge, use your devil!"

Vergil unheeded, permitting his body to burn. Nero stepped away but Vergil gripped his devil arm, his eyes never leaving his face. He had to know if the hybrid could control these flames.

Nero trembled, "I…I…won't hurt you", the flames growing cooler in answer.

Vergil asked "so you only murder weak humans?"

Nero's smile expanded, "I kill vermin they…deserve death".

Vergil's unfriendly eyes fell over his devil arm, leaning into his ear "then why not kill you? A small smile appearing on his lips, "you cry like a human, even as a devil. How pitiful you are. Even with all this power your nothing but a…sniffling child". The tone was unforgiving and removed. Each word found its all-pervading mark. He could see the smile fading from Nero's lips, eyes enraged, flames mounting. They turned purple in colour. Vergil held his ground. He was in agony, body bursting in pain. These deadly flames burned their victims from the inside.

Vergil provoked, "to think I had mistaken you for something worth considering killing, you're not even worth it" eyes disengaging Nero's to soar towards Dante.

Nero wrapped his neck with his devil arm, his talons tearing his tender flesh which was by now badly burned, "you want to die", between clenched teeth, flames altering crimson.

Vergil's stare tapered. Nero could see his pupils dilate and turn black, the flames burning the cell away. Where was he? Why did it hurt to have these eyes look away from his face? He was standing inside the pitch-black park. Gripping her soft neck, her brown eyes fixed on his face in shock, one hand resting on his, tears streaming down her face.

"Do you love me Kyrie?"

He waited for an answer. He had been waiting patiently for the last 12 years. Was it possible for a human to fall in love with a devil? Wasn't that how he was born? Yet his hatred for humans had turned his heart black. She was one of them? He placed one hand inside her soft hair so she couldn't slip away from his side, desperate. He leaned in and kissed her lips. They tasted of cherry blossoms on the first day of spring. He felt her body tense from his touch. The sudden realisation she had always feared him. A part of her would never accept his devil; she could never accept him for who he was. Nero would never be accepted by anyone. It hurt...in the end they were always destined to part ways. He couldn't let her go.

Kyrie kissed his tears, "why do you run away Nero...from the truth?"

Nero gazed back at her in shock he held her hand in a trance. She was really here, the girl he had fallen in love with. She could see him.

"I thought I lost you?"

Kyrie tiptoed and leaned into his ear, "the park Nero, the men and me...what you really saw?" Her soft lips brushed his ear. One hand resting on his chest, "you lost me a long time ago...remember, I wasn't strong like you?" Nero's eyes widened, he did remember, he had killed her. His devil had...crushed her. His lips trembled as he spoke the words.

"I killed you with my own hands".

Kyrie breathed "you need to let me go Nero, why do you blame…yourself", citing her loving arms around his midriff.

Nero gazed up at the heavens in ache and regret. How could he let her go, she was a part of him. He was lost…without her. His tears trailed down the dips of his cheeks and onto her soft skin as she looked up.

"Why did they not heal you Kyrie...why did you burn?"

He lifted her up into his arms so they were eye to eye, "why did you burn?"

He kissed her lips and closed his eyes. This time she returned his kiss, the first and the last that they would share, lips parting gradually.

"It was too late for me" her honest conviction.

Nero opened his eyes and only found dust. He was alone. His grip loosened around Vergil's neck, bit by bit. Vergil took a few rattled breathes, his windpipe almost crushed. He removed Nero's hand and brushed past. Nero gripped his fingertips in his human hand, the flames returning to his body, as he came back to his sanities, falling to his knees. Vergil watched closely as his devil arm drew the flames. Nero couldn't meet his eyes, still clasping his fingertips.

"Please, kill me...before I end up hurting someone else...kill me", he pleaded the word's in a low voice. He knew these hands were capable of destroying him. They held enough power to finish him, once and for all. He had no reason to continue.

Vergil's jawline scrunched. The smoke began to clear from the cell. Everything was tarred black, including the latest bed, but they on the other hand were truly revitalized. Vergil's flesh was beautifully healed and cleansed in every sense of the word. They had all shed their old skins and risen from the ashes. Vergil uninvolved his fingers from Nero's hand and walked towards Dante who had de-triggered, body steaming and soaking. He was still clutching Leon. The only one still wearing garments. His face looked like he had been badly sunburned but otherwise he looked OK. Heavy criticism resulted from his uninspired other-half.

"Brother, I leave you in charge for one day and this is what happens?"

Dante glared daggers at Vergil. His skin dripping, cheeks red. "You got some nerve Verge. It was your wise idea in the first place to swap cells"?

He rubbed his chest, "I have been through hell and back", complaining.

Dante didn't even know where to begin about his horrible ordeal, having seen the ugly leech that had been gobbling him. He knew he would have nightmares for weeks. His eyes fell on Nero who was still kneeling, head down. He could see the tears streaming down the kids face. He leaned forward and placed an affectionate hand over his head quietly.

"Hey kid, you saved my life today...I owe you one". He ruffled Nero's hair and gazed up at his brother in nod.

Nero sat down on the floor. He smeared his tears with the back of his forearm. Vergil walked towards the warden who was cataleptic. He had never seen him before and he didn't have a name badge, studying prudently. The back of his head was covered in blood. Vergil's lips contracted in thought.

"Why did you save him Dante?"

Dante's eyes widened in surprise, he thumped against the wall stretching his sore back, giving Leon a casual look over.

"Blondie over here was trying to help me". Attuning his messy mane, "Kids devil got carried away at the sight of him".

Vergil curved a brow, silent, Dante sighed loudly "let's talk over breakfast", he was starved even the shitty cornflakes would serve.

He was confident the kid would take Blondie to get his head checked. With a bit of luck he wouldn't remember any of it, just a high moment bent by his own mind. So he hoped. Either way he probably would quit. The guy was too soft for this kind of choppy work. Dante stood up and started to make his way out when Vergil interrogated.

"Did he see you trigger?"

Dante's heart sprinted, Vergil's predacious eyes were still fixed on Leon. He knew his sibling wouldn't hesitate killing him. When it came to calculated decisions Vergil followed his mind over heart. He knew his older brother better than anyone else.

"No Verge, he got knocked out when I slammed into him". Dante didn't meet the scary stare and made his way out rapidly.

Vergil gazed down at Nero who was still sitting silently on the floor, cross legged, his arms folded around his legs. They were both quiet. Vergil now knew that the legend was true about this saviour. He had finally seen the flames for himself and their destructive powers. He had chosen to spare the two of them, having known they shared demonic blood. The same couldn't be said for anyone else. The devil and the hybrid were still conflicted. It was clear that the devil hated humans and wanted to extinguish them. It was the hybrid that could hold him back. This made him volatile, impulsive and above all dangerous. Vergil's eyes lingered on Leon for a moment longer before making his way out.

Nero boosted his head and watched Vergil leave. He placed an arm around Leon's waist and lifted him up. He followed the directions for the medical office when he noted a patch of Leon's hair had turned white. His temples creased in worry, this was the second time someone had seen his devil and lived. Nero had never tried to understand his own powers, just suppress them and blend in. Yet the three people in that cell had seen him for what he truly was. A part of him felt relieved he didn't have to hide anymore. Whether he would be accepted was just a fantasy. He couldn't even accept himself.

Dante walked into the canteen enthusiastically, skin still smoking. Everyone lifted their heads in amazement. Some of the men's mouths fell open, others dropping their spoons and drinks mid-bite. The sexy devil tittered and stroked his chiselled abs, "what...never seen a guy in his Birthday suit?"

They all looked away as he quickly got in line and picked up a tray keenly. Vergil walked in next, still holding an air of vanity and dignity despite being butt-naked. Dante glanced up at the wardens who were back on patrol, giving them a modest thumbs-up. They were keeping a close eye on the two but didn't bother interfering. Vergil stood behind him.

Dante ogled, up and down, "looking good bro" pleased.

Vergil cleaned the tip of Dante's nose of plentiful sweat and headed towards the tables. The other con's vacated the premises as soon as they saw the problematic naked twins heading their way. They were afraid of them and rightfully so. Dante sat down and started guzzling the uncertain contents. Vergil watched critically, rapid heartbeats finally slowing. He would never show it but the sight of the burning cell, and just the thought of losing Dante had made his sturdy soul…tremble. Vergil had promised to protect Dante…after that day. The day he wished he could erase from his recollections. His brother was all he had left. His eyes softened as they fell over his precious mirror. He slid his own tray towards Dante, he had no appetite.

"Eat my share" he urged.

Dante puckered, "hell no Verge, who knows when these bastards will turn on us next. By the way, I had a demonic leech sucking my blood all night long. I think your biggest fan intended it for you, that ugly broad". Dante shook, having seen the ugly parasite he wondered what the demon really looked like.

Vergil folded his hands. He knew he had to decide what to do next. The first problem known as Akira would have to be imparted with an objective lesson. He couldn't forgive him for what he did to his brother. The other problem was the hybrid. He could have killed him today. A part of him couldn't bring himself to do it. He was getting frustrated. Wondering why he was finding it so difficult to make a verdict despite having seen the potent powers he secretly harbours.

"It seems we may have to deal with that demon first".

Dante swiped his face still dripping sweat, "no shit Verge".

He understood this Akira was far more dangerous than they had first anticipated. He slid the tray back towards Vergil who looked strangely anxious. He leaned towards him and raked his full mane. This time it stayed there, thanks to the natural dampness gel.

"There you are" approvingly. He picked up the bread and took a bite. "I know you will always show up to save my ass, so quit worrying about me, it doesn't suit you".

Vergil tilted his lips, Dante noticed. They were twins and their bond had always been remarkable. He remembered Nero's bloody tears, unsettled.

"I think I figured out why the kid's devil is so pissed".

Dante was quiet, "they burned his human mother", disturbed.

Vergil stroked his slender fingers unconsciously, so the hybrid had lost his mother too, just like them. Dante looked away when he saw Nero walking in. He had managed to smuggle a doctor's jacket to cover his modesty. Dante snorted at the sight of him nearly choking on his dry cornflakes in a fit of laughter. Vergil followed his eyes and frowned, how were they supposed to kill someone so naïve and utterly foolish. As if Dante had just read his thoughts he put his spoon down, smug smile occasioning.

"Y' knows Verge, if you're not going to kill him, might as well teach him about that trigger, get it under control. Kid's got a good heart".

Vergil contrived indifference but Dante already knew his brother had warmed up to Nero. Something about those flames had touched the three men inside that cell, forming a bond which would prove to be indissoluble. Nero picked up a tray. He glanced around the room nervously. The sight of the nude twins was making him blush. He decided to sit next to the regular con's that fled the scene as soon as he sat down. The youth heard a loud whistle. Everyone looked in Dante's direction at the same time.

"Hey kid, join us" he waved him over.

Vergil exhaled, "this isn't wise", inspecting Nero who was still in two minds whether to join them or not.

Dante smiled, "it's pretty obvious the kids taken a shine to you, hell, even his devil seemed to be drawn to you".

Vergil tapped the table in agitation. It was true. He had picked up the hybrids feelings when he had gripped his hand. Nero stood up and walked towards them reservedly. He sat down next to Vergil making Dante chuckle harder. Nero coloured when Vergil's cold eyes assessed him critically. He prodded his cornflakes distractedly and avoided his stare.

Dante familiarized, "kid, this is..."

Nero cut-in fidgety, "Vincent...I know, Vinny for short" he mumbled.

Dante's expression paled. Nero could feel annoyance transmitting from Vergil, confused. He adjusted his hair and wondered what he had said wrong. He glanced at Vergil who was glaring at Dante who burst out laughing boldly.

Vergil conveyed, "I despised that dog...Dante", his eyes resembling slits.

Dante recapped "that dog loved you and only ever humped your leg Verge. He could tell us apart, smart dog".

Dante slapped his knee, making the other prisoners flinch at the sound. They were on edge. Nero secretly smiled. The dog clearly had balls to try to get close to someone who exuded danger. Vergil gnashed his teeth and rubbed his temples. He couldn't scold the spoilt brat that was Dante. He divided the cornflakes and spoke the words quietly recalling their beautiful home.

"Do you remember what happened to that dog?"

Dante's smile dulled, "he ran away, that's what mom..."

He stopped and stared back at the floor uncomfortably. He couldn't remember the last time they had discussed their family, hushed. Nero felt tense. Although he was seated with these two strangers, why did he feel so connected to them? They had kindled something inside of him. Was it hope? Nero thought about his own family. He only had Kyrie and that woman who haunts his dreams. He had lost them both. Nero felt a hand landing on his shoulder, he gazed up. The fat guy who had watched him getting raped was standing there.

"Akira wants a word with you".

Nero slapped his hand away in disgust, "fuck off".

Vergil mediated, "I wish to speak to Akira".

Dante intruded, unhappily, "like hell you are, am not letting you see that creep…alone…especially looking like this", pointing to his well-founded abs.

Vergil inspected his perfect body and stood up. The fat guy was jumpy and stepped away from him.

"Lead the way", the mild say.

Nero stood up gruffly not knowing how to react. He didn't want this man near that twisted demon, "I'll go" the self-sacrifice.

Vergil's icy eyes fell over his strained face, "Dante, keep an eye on him".

Dante groaned, he was quiet for a few moments, "sit down kid".

Nero gazed at him in shock but he continued to stand. Vergil left the two alone. They watched him leave with growing apprehension.

Dante's eyes fell on Nero's pale face, "he can handle himself" reassuringly.

He trusted Vergil's judgements, blindly. If they were going to be here for a little while longer than he would need to address the issue directly. After all, if they couldn't kill the kid, maybe training him behind these walls was their next best option. Nero sat down and inspected the food in front of him…he didn't want to tell Dante how that leech had entered the cell last night, his stupidity has caused all this mess in the first place. Dante was observing him silently, he could tell something was wrong.

"Did that creep do something to you?"

Nero felt his chest tighten. He was too embarrassed to tell him what had happened. Yet his brother hadn't even flinched until the very last moment. He had watched the whole sick ordeal. So why it was he felt more attached to this other man, despite his hostile nature.

Nero whispered, "your brother, he…he saved me".

Dante's eyes narrowed, one hand going to his chin and scratching his slight stubble. "In that case kid, no need to be so gloomy, looks like we won't be killing you".

Nero blurted in shock "you were here to kill me!?"

Dante snickered, "we're professional devil hunters, it's our job...looks like you have managed to make an impression on Vergil".

Nero paused, so the man's name was Vergil. He wondered what the twins would do to him if they found out about the leech. He would have to confess sooner than later. He wouldn't mind dying as long as it was by those hands. He needed closure. Dante yawned loudly before leaning forward and slapping him across the head.

Nero was dumbfounded, "what the hell was that for old man!"

The judgemental hunter folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head, "quit being suicidal kid your killing my good mood and I had a pretty shitty night".

Nero's eyes widened in doubt, Dante leaned back and sited his hands behind his head, "yep, being hybrids it's easy to second guess what the other person is thinking, it's like a radio wave".

Nero rubbed his head, "why can't I pick up anything from you?" It was as if Dante had a protective shield around him.

A playful smile completed the devil's lips, "you got a lot to learn kid, comes with experience", hiding dark secrets was an art in itself, one that only he had learned.


	8. Dreams

Leon was upended on a dusty road which he browsed in puzzle. How did he get here? Inhospitable ranchers were treating their harvest. He stood fenced inside unspoilt grasslands. He had never bothered visiting the countryside, having grown up in the City he felt strangely out of place here, staring at his sooty white shirt and tight black pants. A calm summer breeze uplifted his blonde hair, hiking without thinking, it was unusually peaceful here. He tracked the incrusted road and paused to view the violet blossoms budding along his footpath. When was the last time something had caught his eye? All the time…rushing, jumbled, in empty tasks...was he truly alive?

Leon stooped and rubbed the kind petals…exhaling, he stood up and stopped brusquely. The spectacle occurring right in front left him overwhelmed. A young woman in her early twenties was cowering in the middle of the road. A group of kids were assaulting her with stones.

Guesstimating, "little punks!?"

Leon accelerated his even-tempered pace. He had become a police officer to care for people, to help them, to keep order. Seeing something like this always produced heavy emotions. He couldn't stand women and children getting hurt, yet his line of work required the need to be desensitised…detached, bending on one knee to inspect her as the little mob ran away.

"Are you alright?"

She was still holding her brow. He hadn't even noticed the small child gripping her tightly. A tiny toddler was huddled inside her arms and looked remarkably like the one he had seen in his earlier dream. When was that exactly…unable to think coherently? The girl lowered her hand from his head and he detected that silver mane. There was no misidentifying this time. He was the same boy…and the adolescence from the…prison. How could he ever forget these hazy, hostile, eyes?

"Nero", the girl breathed anxiously inspecting her son.

Leon whispered to himself, "Nero?"

The girl shakily picked up her little boy to move away from the farmers whom were viewing her irritably. Leon followed after her, her long hair falling to her midriff, her coffee dress rasping the ground, yet she was utterly entrancing.

"Excuse me Madam, are you OK?"

She stilled and their eyes lit. He couldn't look away from her. Her forehead was bleeding, the sight of her blood made his heart sprint. She passed over and started to walk away. He didn't know if he should follow her. Nero held out his hand to him, one arm clutching her neck…as if quietly asking for his help.

"Mama" the weeping cries.

Leon couldn't move. Why was he so scared to tail them…deciding to turn back, troubled, why was he turning his back on them. It was his duty wasn't it…to protect and to serve…the promised words of honour? Decided, he took a few long strides and caught up to them. Nero radiated, hiding his face in his mother's tresses…shy.

Leon smirked, "it's OK, I won't let them hurt you".

They strode together towards the heart of an open marketplace in a very busy square. The place was crammed with people buying fresh produce. The girl placed Nero beside her and took his hand, walking towards a fruit stand, checking the apples nervously. The whole world was seeing her. Leon couldn't help but feel the tension in the air. She stood out. No one wanted her here. The old man behind the cart shooed her.

"Go away witch, your scaring my customers", cleaning what she had touched with a cloth.

The girl heeded silently and moved away from the cart, "come" heavy note in her shaking voice.

Leon grew steadily impatient, "you should try to be a little politer to your customer's gramps, especially women".

The old man didn't reply, too busy removing the soiled apples altogether, cursing under his breathe "wretched witch".

Leon sited his hands inside his pockets, "talk about an overreaction", browsing the crowd when he felt a hand gripping his leg. Nero was clutching him tightly.

Leon crouched, "hey kiddo, what's wrong?"

Nero cried, "Ma-Ma-hic-Mama...gone", he wept uncontrollably, shaking with sobs, "Maaa-Maaa" the deafening cries.

Leon panicked, gazing at the listless mass. Where had she gone? Rapidly picking Nero up and surfing through the crowd. She was just here moments ago. Where could she be? He was no longer in the square, standing in the middle of nowhere, swamped by lanky trees and a glistening lake floodlit by the ghostly moonlight. Leon was staring at colourful Lilies drying out on the front porch of a trivial cabin. He walked towards the door which was slightly ajar.

Leon wiped Nero's streaming tears, "we will find her, I promise".

Nero smeared his runny nose unevenly, incessantly scratching his otherworldly arm. Leon gripped the appendage…perplexed…his arm was not normal? So why in the world did these strange textures he was feeling felt so…familiar. His heart ran when he heard a woman's gut-wrenching scream. It came from behind the closed door. Leon kicked it open and stood shocked. She was lying down, badly beaten, bloodied, and naked on the bed. One man was holding her arms forcefully while the other raped her. Leon stumbled backwards, covering Nero's moist eyes with one hand. He could see her tears spilling down her puffy cheeks. His heart filled with pain at the sight of her nakedness…her helplessness.

"Guess the witch doesn't have any special powers".

The farmer he had seen in the fields was still clad in his brown hat and overalls. The other man was grunting hard, his brown pants falling around his feet. She didn't make a sound, remaining motionless…her curls obscuring her beaten face. Leon could see each and every bruise inflicting her flesh, down from her ankles, to her ribs, to her throat. She had fought them till the very end. The man holding her arms sniggered.

"Come on bitch make some noise. I know you're enjoying this…you whore".

The panting man's face flushed and he closed his eyes, going limp, "fuck me!" breathless. Taunting her, "I heard you put out for a demon, bet I was better than him eh".

The man holding her arms grunted, "I heard she found him in this lake, his body had washed up here...she took care of him" he chortled.

The bleeding girl started to cry. He could see her body trembling, as she screamed again. The hurt in her voice made Leon's heart tremor in distress he had never felt for anyone else, clasping Nero tightly in ache as tiny fists braced his neck.

"Bastards", he slid Nero down and walked towards the men, furious.

Nero clutched his fingertips. Leon turned to face him, distraught. When was the last time he had cried? It was at his father's burial. Chris was standing beside him as he flung the earth onto the black coffin that contained the man that he would never see again, the sound of the cold torrents, the gunfire, as they honoured him, his tears stinging and falling from his wary eyes. Why did we all lose what mattered the most, staring at her for the answer? The two men were throwing gasoline all over the bed as she tried to raise her figure.

"R-run…Nero".

Hopelessly gazing at the small space behind the cupboard where he was hiding. "Run...my sweet child" the despairing cry. She knew he would hear her voice. He had his father's indistinguishable powers.

"Nero", she wept trying to crawl away from the men to see her son's face, one last time.

The men adjusted their buckles, "just in case she opens her mouth".

The taller of the two glanced at the cupboard, "what about the boy?"

The man shrugged his shoulders, "good as dead without her, we're doing em both a favour".

The other man removed his brown hat and scratched his head. His beige curved teeth forming a smile, "supposed so".

They both peeped at her and walked towards the door, "you got a light?"

The taller man patted his pockets. He pulled out a match box, "here you go…you do it".

The shorter man snatched it from his hand, "always such a big pussy".

Leon collapsed to his knees, hands clasping the wooden floor. He couldn't bear to look. Why couldn't he save her? He glimpsed at Nero whose eyes were burning red, teeth bared as he gazed at the men, devil arm pulsing indigo. Leon watched the men light the match and flick it in her direction.

"Run Nero!", she pleaded. Her eyes closed as the flames set her body alight. She didn't make a sound and lay back down in bed, writhing in pain.

Leon could smell her burning flesh, eyes damp with tears as she curled into a foetal position, "why..!" the quiver. Nero ran into the ember flames.

Leon shouted urgently "no don't!" The inferno was increasing, the smoke and fumes choking him as he rushed towards the bed, his skin burning when the flames mysteriously vanished. Nero's devil arm had swallowed these fires.

"Mama", a tiny voice whispered from behind the ash and smoke.

Her son was clutching her badly burned body, one small hand resting on her forehead, blood tears falling from his eyes and onto her skin. Leon looked away…she was still alive, just barely…he could hear her laboured and pained breathes, covering his ears. Why hadn't he protected them?

Leon could hear the police sirens in the distance. He opened the door to find two officers standing outside his house. They had a kindly look in their eyes and he knew why they were here. Life was fragile. At that moment he knew his world was about to turn upside down. His father had died…on duty. The same morning he had left for school they had gotten into a petty fight. If he had known that was the last time he would have seen his father he would have thought twice about the harsh words that had fled his lips. Leon had wounded his father with them and couldn't take them back. Life didn't give him a second chance, just a regret that would always haunt him. He felt dazed by the weight he was carrying when he felt a heave of light. The sapphire glow from Nero's devil arm was intensifying. Leon sat drained, dragging himself towards the illuminations, immersing, and soothing his broken soul.

He sat on the edge of the bed to witness her skin regenerating, her supple hair growing back, the bruises on her milky body and face, vanishing. It was too late for her, she had stopped breathing. Nero continued to rub her forehead. The light was gone from his world. He crawled off the bed and hurried outside. Leon followed after him as he stood next to the lake and started to dig the soil with his small hands. A giant fist formed in the air above him and he used it to scoop a large hole in the lenient earth. Reaching for her, "Mama", her body floated from the room wrapped in his invisible glow. He was going to bury her, out here, in the place sacred to them both.

The sun was setting, gold light reflecting off the lake. The peach coloured Lilies twinkling. Leon sat downcast and stared at the unbounded blues…disoriented. Why do the eyes of all those that have been inflicted by tragedy mirror one another. As if the sky should part and God himself would have to answer this question. Why are men's hearts filled with cruelty and why do the innocent always suffer? He felt arms wrapping his torso. He looked upwards into the saddened eyes of the teen that was holding him, talons pacifying his whitened tresses. Leon wasn't afraid of these burning eyes for they were deeply consoling.

"Our mother..." the gentle say, eyes bleeding.

Leon clutched Nero's arm feeling like a lost child out here, all alone. They were orphans. His mother had died during childbirth. After his father passed away he had never been the same. If it wasn't for Chris and Claire he would never have gotten over his depression. These feelings which he had bottled away had abruptly vented and were sinking him. Leon gazed out towards the waters.

"Why did you bring me here?"

The warm tears continued to fall from his eyes. Nero turned to incline their temples. It hurt to breathe, the pain was insufferable. He didn't know if it was his own or the teens that was holding onto him. Neither could let each other go.

"He has forgotten her. I want you to remind him".

They both stared at the freshly dug grave. The last ray of the sun dying until there was only an unnatural dimness left behind…emptiness. Nero restored his lips on Leon's forehead as he spoke the words.

"You chose willingly to answer my call. You will bear witness to these flames and my pain".

Leon could see a bright light in the remoteness. He gripped Nero's shoulders. The village was on fire. He could hear the deafening cries of women and children being slaughtered.

"I... I don't want to be a part of this", he rumbled.

Nero kissed Leon's lips, "it's too late, you're already…a part of me".

Leon's eyes raced towards his overflowing devil arm as the fires blasted out of them. He closed his eyes to their viciousness, ferocity, and craving for violence. Perchance, they could burn these feelings from his heart until there was nothing left. Leon's eyes flew open. His ears were ringing and it took a few moments for his eyes to regulate scope. He was thankfully in bed, a drip attached to his right arm. A man's voice spoke unsympathetically next to him.

"You're finally awake?"

Leon brooded. This guy was the last person he wanted to wake up to after an equally unpleasant nightmare. Robertson sited a piece of paper beside his bedstead.

"This is your schedule for tomorrow. If you decide to quit just sign the resignation letter instead. We have a lot of people who decide not to show up again".

Leon lifted and leaned against the steel bedframe. He glanced down at his hands which were slightly tanned. He met the wardens stare and inspected the schedule. He was on graveyard shift for the rest of the week…great.

Leon croaked "how long was I out for…Sir?"

Robertson gauged. "Approximately 3 hours. The doctor said he found you unconscious outside the sickbay. What happened to you?"

He had to report back to Akira. If this rookie would pose a threat they would dispose of him with the help of the other inmates. No one ever suspected anything in the past and he would be no exception to this rule.

Leon folded the paperwork, "I slipped and bumped my head Sir".

Robertson nodded, "you got a mild concussion and a few stitches. I suggest you take the rest of the day off and report to me tomorrow afternoon".

Leon patted the bandage around his forehead before inspecting the four small grazes that were left on his skin where the "nails" had rested. The thing which had held him had left its mark on his skin. Whatever had happened inside that cell had been real, he just had to clear his head and investigate further. He was a cop at heart and needed evidence to confirm hard facts. This job really had deadened him albeit a bit too well.

"Yes Sir" effecting.

Robertson stood up, "by the way, your hair, it needs to be covered if you intend to have it looking like a street punks".

Leon stared, "Sir, this is my natural hair colour".

Robertson quoted, "then have it one colour or don't take off your hat", leaving.

Leon caressed his strands hastily, placing his feet on the cold floor, he fumbled with the drip. Using the bed to stand and walk awkwardly towards the singular cubicle which had a white sink and miniature mirror. Leon contemplated his reflection. A patch of his hair had…turned white unlike his skin which was a nice bronze. Leon held the sink as if to get a grip. What was happening to him? Progressing to tug the alien strands which were evidently very, very real. Reviewing the cuts to his cheek, where five distinct marks were etched on his puffy skin. Perhaps there was still time to approach the two men before he left the prison today, stepping outside the toilets to find a pissed off doctor in his early forties.

"Save the lecture Doc, I'm leaving".

The doctor groaned irascibility, "rest...is what you need officer".

The doctor was having an awful day; his jacket had gone missing fatefully containing his keys and wallet. He could have sworn he had left it on the chair and was too distracted to deal with boisterous patients.

"God help me", he muttered.

Leon rolled down his sleeve and slid on his shoes. "Was a prisoner with white hair admitted here this morning? He had severe internal bleeding?"

The doctor fumbled with his desk drawers, "no just you and another officer who was flown to hospital this morning".

Leon digested. The prisoner he had tried to help earlier was nearing death. Surely someone would have reported him? Had he imagined the whole thing? He stood up and left the room, walking towards the main cells. It seemed the prisoners were out for leisure in the yard. The cells were deserted, his steps booming him to the scene of the crime. Leon inspected the bars first, they were slightly twisted, stepping inside to explore further. The walls looked as if they had been freshly cleaned and scrubbed, and the bed had been substituted. He could tell it was brand new. He didn't know what to make of it. Who would try to go out of their way to cover up what had happened here. It didn't feel right.

"Kennedy, didn't I ask you to go home", the voice startled him.

He stood up slowly, gripping the bed for support. He had a head rush. He stroked the bandage tentatively on his forehead.

Robertson was watching him closely; he placed the baton on his belt. "Something wrong...Officer Kennedy", blocking the exit.

Leon examined the sink. "It's nothing Sir...I was just looking for my hat".

Robertson smiled, "Is that so", he glanced around the cell. "You should really go home; you wouldn't want to strain yourself, first day on the job".

Leon couldn't help but feel a tip-off of pessimism in his tone. This guy had followed him here it was obvious he was keeping an eye on him.

He stepped closer, "don't worry Sir, I think I can handle myself".

Robertson stare lingered over Leon's cheek. "I will see you out".

He stepped outside and waited for Leon who followed hesitantly. The prisoners were being marched back towards their prison cell. The wardens were keeping a close eye on them. Leon spotted the two of them from a mile away, their white hair and tall frames towering over the other prisoners. It was as if he couldn't see anyone else. The man that had internal bleeding looked even better than before. His skin was blushing.

Dante glanced at Nero who was walking beside him. The guards had finally given them new clothes before they were allowed outside in the large yard. The kid had been quiet ever since. He was still worried about Vergil. His brother hadn't returned from breakfast. He was so lost in thought he didn't notice Leon had gripped him by the wrist and was dragging him in the opposite direction. Robertson was caught up in a scuffle between two other inmates who had started a fight at the front. Nero stopped and followed after the two of them. Leon made his way through the other cons. Dante gripped his hand and pulled him inside a cell. Two inmates were lying down on the bed. They lifted their heads in surprise.

Dante hounded, "you miss me, huh?"

He liked the warden and was happy to see that he was doing alright. Leon lifted his top in answer, to review his completely healed skin. Dante's mouth fell open, he routinely smothered people with his physical presence to intimidate and aggravate them but today he was on the receiving end. He lowered his top from Leon's incessant grip who was staring at the floor.

Dante held his hands, "are you coming onto me Officer", he hummed.

Leon was still lost in thought and didn't counter. He moved closer to Dante and checked his face. Dante smirked audaciously; he was impressed that Blondie still appeared to be sane after what he had witnessed. Most humans would have probably checked into a mental institute by now. Guess he must have seen a lot of shit to have become this hardened…impressed.

Leon understood, "how did you…recover?!"

A white man with tattoos stood up from the lower bunk.

"Ah, boys, this isn't your cell", shirtless.

Leon faced him, "sit down", his tone was neutral but his facial expression made the con follow his orders.

Dante abruptly clutched Leon's head with both hands and inspected the white hair with enthrallment, "what the hell happened to your hair?"

Leon scowled, "you tell me?"

Dante let him go and rested a leg on the wall, "how am I supposed to know Blondie, you hit your head and..."

Leon cut him off casually, "don't give me that. I remember everything and that's Officer Kennedy to you".

Dante leaned in, "firstly, the hair suits you…secondly I prefer Blondie".

Leon sighed, he would get nowhere with this frustrating man and he couldn't face the teen. That nightmare had been frightening.

The two cons offered an alternative explanation, "lovers scuffle", one of them mumbled.

Dante and Leon stepped away from each other at the unsettling comment.

The blushing red devil adjusted his top and mannish stance, "do I look gay to you?"

The con provided, "you make do with what you have here, don't mean you're gay. Plus he is pretty hot, got nice skin too".

Leon shook his head and stared at the man who had made a pass at him. The con busied himself with his shirt. The skinny man on the bunk continued to watch the two inquisitively.

Dante brushed past Leon, "look Blondie I got nothing to tell you".

Nero was standing there watching the two of them. His brows wrinkled when he saw Leon. He looked delicate.

Leon didn't want to get any closer to him. He avoided his eyes, his skin beginning to burn at the sight of him. That woman's hauntingly beautiful face flashed before his eyes.

Nero stepped closer, "how…how are you feeling?" He scratched his cheek and waited for an answer. He felt remorseful…he had nearly killed the young warden.

Leon was silent. His mind completely blank, his eyes lingered on Nero's devil arm.

Nero hid it behind his back instinctively.

Leon placed a hand over his lips, they had kissed?

Feeling faint, "your mother, do you…remember her?"

The words escaped his lips without his consensus. He could see her clutching Nero inside her arms. He wanted to know her name. How badly he wanted to forget all this only to find himself knee-deep.

The teens mouth widened in surprise, "I…I...don't remember", the words left his lips gently and he gazed back down at the floor in misunderstanding, "my…m-mother".

Dante could feel the hurt in the air. He was baffled when he caught tears falling from Leon's eyes that wiped them with the back of his hand, bewildered and overcome by what he was handling. Nero had forgotten her. He shook his head and walked past the two of them. It was pointless trying to find answers to questions he himself didn't know, on the verge of collapse. Leon gripped the wall to balance when he felt a thoughtful arm wrapping his shoulder. Leon lifted his head and stared at Dante. His touch was conversant, had he been the one holding him. He had heard a man whisper in his ear before he felt those wings, those scales, and that compelling heartbeat. Dante leaned into his ear and spoke in a gruff voice.

"Forget what you saw, Officer Kennedy".

Leon pushed him away and took a few faltering steps, "you...you're not human...are you?"

Pointing at Nero, "you're just like…him", Leon knew this was the only logical explanation, whether he liked it or not.

Dante sneered, "what else could I possibly be...a devil?"

Leon sure-fired, "that's exactly what I'm going to find out".

Dante's eyes tightened. The warden was perceptive but what bothered him the most was that he was undeterred. Even so, the line between reality and fantasy would remain the same. He would have to accept the logical explanation that it was all just one big dream and he would have to move on. What proof did he have? Leon turned and made his way down the strip.

Nero stood beside Dante, "hey old man, I think I did something to him with those...flames". He always ended up hurting others.

Dante was still watching Leon as he walked past the other cons, his tall frame and blonde hair dwindling.

"I wouldn't worry kid, its better if he stays out of this".

Dante doubted his own words. The blonde had already been dragged into this whole mess. Even he didn't understand why his hair had changed colour. Vergil would have the answer but knowing his older brother he would probably find a more brutal solution. Dante gestured with his fingers to Nero and started to walk back towards his preferred cell. He knew the kid had already developed a bond with Vergil and wanted to leave the two of them alone to get that trigger under control. Who would have thought Vergil would open up to someone else, other than himself? He was finally making positive progress. And above all, having suffered the leech from hell he would rather sleep in a different location. He caught the unpleasant blonde known as Robertson eyeing him. Dante winked at him and gave him his raciest grin. Robertson had rapt his baton tauter. He needed urgent release to all this pent-up rage, anticipating Nero with a comparable smile.


	9. Emotions

Akira was painting his nails and by this crucial point had had altered his garb into a chic red silk robe. Still sitting in the monitor room, he couldn't stop smiling. The sight of the naked men had sent pleasurable shudders down his deplorable spine. He had asked the guards to allow them to walk around butt-naked for as long as they wished so that he could watch them like a creep, dabbing bright red lipstick and topping off with mascara and eyeliner. His heart skipped a beat as the door opened. In front of him stood a man so perfect his mouth dried. Akira's sweltering eyes traced those long lean legs, lingered on the muscled thighs and sweaty chest before meeting those chilly judgments. Akira was in pure heaven.

"What a beautiful man you truly are" resting one hand under his chin.

In his previous and rather dull years, no one had ever matched his high standards, the devil before him however surpassed all his physical requirements. Vergil was less impressed by the ghastly sight that was he in heavy makeup. Akira gestured eagerly and the two guards that had been accompanying him vacated the room. Akira continued to admire him. It was the first time he had come to respect someone else.

"Sorry to keep you waiting I wanted to look pretty for you".

Vergil combed a few strands "what is it that you want?"

Akira raised and meandered towards him he couldn't keep away and was drawn to Vergil's superb flesh, daring a finger to stroke the delicious cheekbones. Vergil didn't step away, permitting the contact.

"Isn't it obvious? I would like a taste of you, Son of Sparda?"

Vergil's cold gaze intensified as Akira's fingers trailed his dipping neckline. "Don't think of me as an...ordinary demon, I of course am a high ranking incubus...awoken...when they first mined here...the humans that is and I know all about you my darling prince". His straying hands floated down the alluring chest.

"I knew the moment you entered this place who you really were. His blood cannot be corrupted, even with the scent of a mere human".

Vergil wasn't surprised. All demons knew of them. They had been hunted as children for as long as he could remember. His father had revolted and created a rift unlike any other by marrying a human. They were an abomination of a union that should never have taken place. Vergil didn't know what had become of his father, who had abandoned them, leaving behind a dark shadow of his legendary status that they could never truly escape nor erase. He had felt nothing at his father's disappearance from their lives and had uninterestedly examined his mother and Dante disintegrate in his absenteeism.

Akira's cold hands trailed the ridges of his stomach, "I might melt under that stare of yours. Did you know I have always wanted to meet you...Vergil?"

Vergil stepped closer, "really?" His lips tilted to form a smile that never stretched to his eyes.

Akira halted in advance of rubbing Vergil's lips, "every demon that feasts on the desires of the flesh would happily die to be this close to you".

Vergil scoffed, "what makes me so special, demon?"

Akira quavered "your heart of course. We have all heard the tales of your brutality, your unflinching lack of empathy and remorse. You truly have inherited your father's heart and none of his flaws, a true devil, through and through".

Sniffing, "you're not afflicted by human emotions, even now if I were to devour you in lust you would allow me, since you have no concept or need for carnal desires, as long as it suits your purpose". Squeezing a rosy nipple, "unlike your sweet brother you are his bipolar opposite, aren't you...must have been tough growing up with him and feeling nothing for anyone around you".

Akira met his stare "a wild wolf having to live like a tamed dog...so sad". He placed his hand over his heart "tell me has it ever raced for anyone…beaten with desire?" He leaned closer, "your asexual too, untouched; untainted, unclaimed...same can't be said about that trashy brother of yours".

Akira stepped away and slid off the robe, standing naked before him. He tapped his chin in thought and assessed Vergil closely who looked like a perfect Greek statue.

"Still, I think you would prefer me to embrace you as a woman". Akira transformed her body into her stunning female form, "I can take any shape you wish...all I ask is that you give yourself to me, just once. In return, I will leave the three of you alone until you decide to leave this jail".

"I will also protect that little fox your so fond of and your sweet brother". She placed a finger on her lips and smeared the red lipstick "just once, is all I ask, Son of Sparda".

Vergil stepped closer and placed a hand under her chin, tilting her face upwards "why not take me by force?"

Akira closed her eyes to his graze "where would the fun be in that, I want you to come willingly". She leaned into his body, resting her breasts against his hard chest.

"Which reminds me, I heard a rumour about the gruesome demise of your beloved mother, who unfortunately became possessed by a demon. Silly thing thought that if it acquired her body the two of you would willingly die by her hands". He gripped her face harder in retort, "so it is true...you are the one who killed her...you truly are a vicious wolf".

Akira raised her chirpy voice, "you didn't even cry, did you. In fact, I bet you have never shed a single tear for anyone. These eyes are dry and barren like a desert. Tell me does he see you for what you...truly are?"

Vergil let go of her chin and inspected his hands. It was true that he had been the one to kill their mother at the tender age of fourteen. Dante had cowered willing to die then hurt the one sacred to him. It had always been this way, as if Dante had taken all the warmth and emotions from their mother's womb and left him completely hollow. Vergil was the deadened void. His brother had assumed he had simply lost himself to his devil side but he had been in control the whole time. Vergil had delivered the final blow with hands that never shook and had neither trembled. A son had carved his mother's heart and had felt nothing. He had masked the unfeeling monstrosity that was he behind the guise of his devil trigger, to ultimately hide and conceal himself from his brother's judgemental watch so he wouldn't see his true face...his grotesque self.

Dante had sat their clutching his mother's corpse for a very long time as he stood over them. Vergil was the personification of death, cruel, uncharitable, and distinctly pitiless. The sight of the two people, closest to him, drained in blood, had only filled him with cold, calm, resentment. Humans were foolishly weak to their inferior emotions and he simply didn't share this trait. Vergil had always seen it as a blessing thus far it had always felt more like a curse in the eyes of his mother and twin. They were mirrors, so why had he turned out like this? The unsure devil had pointed Yamato's unforgiving steel towards his brother's neck for elucidation.

Dante didn't notice he had his eyes shut in sorrow. Eva's blonde hair was streaked in gore and had discoloured his aggrieved expression. He could see the exquisite tear's clinging to his long eyelashes...forever vacant from his stone-hearted perceptions. Vergil had always wondered why they never reached his eyes. Why other people's affliction never touched him the way they could Dante. Why he never allowed the two of them near him. He couldn't even pretend to be normal simply accepting what he was...a devil.

If he murdered his brother would he feel something then? Vergil was curious to find out, raising the tip of his rapier towards the throbbing jugular afore. He was covered in his mother's blood and yet Yamato was thirsting for extra. The only time he felt any passion was when he crudely slayed. He would never admit this to anyone else. Dante laid Eva's body gently to the floor and managed to stand on his shaky feet, staring right at him. His identical eyes that faithful day had matched his own. They had lost all the warmth that made them so very human. Dante was his perfect reflection. He could see himself inside his brother's fierce gaze. That unyielding look had both surprised and scared him, lowering his murmuring blade.

Dante closed the distance between their bodies. They were eye to eye. Vergil felt his brother's hands clasping his shoulders, fingertips squeezing hard enough to make his flesh strangely ache. It was the first time his brother had dared to touch him, for he didn't like being touched by anyone. Vergil lost his trigger as the answer to his previous question was miraculously solved. Yamato had fallen from his grip in motion as his hands staggered to his sides. Dante had embraced him in all his unhidden cruelty. He had seen him for what he was and had accepted him for it. Vergil had been wrong in his inclinations, that his brother couldn't read him, nor see him. He was his other half, a constant reminder that there was someone else who would always be an inseparable part of him, someone who completed and needed him. Dante was the sun that radiated life and heat; he was the cold moon that held rest for those wondering in the darkness. They were never meant to be the same. In that deeply loving and warm embrace Vergil had discovered his true identity.

"I'm sorry Verge, I should have been the one to do this", the muffled words kissed his oracles between trembling rims.

Dante's hands cupped his face reverentially, "I should have been the one…I was a coward", he had repeated the same words over and over until he couldn't bear to hear the devastating verses.

Vergil's hands had unsteadily climbed Dante's shoulders and contained his little brother that was crumbling to pieces because of him. Vergil had returned his sibling's tender embrace, equally warm, heartfelt and unfeigned. The blue devil had never learned how to comfort another with these uncaring hands. They had only been trained in the art of inflicting hurt and damage, never love. Dante had clung to his chest speechless.

"Forgive me" his gentle encouragement.

Dante clutched tightly, "it's not...your fault".

Vergil's eyes had fallen on his mother's slain body. The rising pain in his throat and chest had stirred quiescent emotions that had always lain buried beneath. He had just killed his mother. Eva was gone. Vergil had swallowed the bitter truth...that he had just killed an irreplaceable part of himself. He had suffered true loss. That day, his heart had beaten in agony. That day, he had felt tears grace his eyes. That day, he had understood he was human. Dante's caress had touched his cold soul, striking a fire within. The influx of his falling tears hadn't gone unnoticed. Vergil had never been able to understand why Dante had stopped crying at the sight of his tears. It was a mixture of relief, sadness, and guilt entwined in one singular gaze as his brother had rubbed his moist cheek with his and had looked at his teardrops as if they had held his salvation. The two would never part ways. There was no longer any distance between them and never would be.

Dante had never blamed him for Eva's death. They had grown unusually attached with each passing day, his brother tearing away his mask, bit by bit, always observing him quietly, getting closer, until he was used to his touches, caresses, and benign kisses. Dante's eyes forever confirming deep admiration and love he knew he didn't merit. Vergil had recited what true love was, inside his brother's compassionate traces. He was still discovering himself and shedding his old skin. Every day a little of his old self would be left behind and he would eventually catch up to Dante, her perfect son. The second time he had felt anything for anyone was Nero. The day the hybrid had held his hand he had felt his torment, loss, and hopelessness. Vergil wanted to protect Nero, the way he did his own brother. He had never imagined these feelings would transcend beyond his own blood. Dante had changed him...for the better. Eva's death had marked a turning point in his life. He was growing more and more human, understanding the depths of emotions that had always left him so very ignorant.

Akira gripped his hair snapping him out of his thoughts, "I see you for what you are and I love you for it. It is your soul that is desirable to me".

Vergil's fingers travelled her neck, "do you know the difference between a man and a woman's heart?"

Akira smiled, "teach me", in a deeper voice.

Vergil slipped her hair behind her ear and rested his lips on top, "a man's heart is shallow water, just a droplet compared to a woman's ocean. It holds depths that are impenetrable, cold, and dark". His gaze fell on her breasts, "this is why they say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. For when she is hurt, she will reach down into these depths to strike her vengeance".

Akira leaned closer, her lips inches from Vergil's, "handsome and smart".

Vergil stroked her cheeks with the back of his fingertips, "do you like my touch...demon?"

Akira shivered, "like is such a feeble word...I love your touch. Fill my body with it".

Vergil laughed quietly, he couldn't remember the last time he did, "this is the first time a demon has...amused me" stepping backwards.

Akira flushed, "you're a tease" she cooed and licked her fingertips. Her long black tongue slithered out of her mouth as she swayed her hips, "I can make all your desires come true...just ask of me. I will show you what true pleasure is".

Vergil played along, "on your knees then".

Akira sighed "so that's how you want it, who would have thought" she went down on her laps, one hand gliding up towards his member.

He gripped her wrist before she could touch him, "you really are...pathetic? You have spent far too long with humans and forget your true nature". 

"Demons cannot love". His eyes bearing into her skin with even scorn, "your true place is here on the floor…for we are not equals".

Akira sneered, Vergil gripped her wrist harder breaking it "you are no match for me". He lowered to her, "endure this hurt as a woman scorned. This humiliation is a lesson for you, it will bear a stronger hold on your heart then any act of violence I may inflict", certain of his cutting.

Akira's eyes turned black, her spine protruding abnormally, black patches bubbling from her flesh, nails extending but she held back her temper. This man had seen through her...for she had allowed her emotions to get the better of her. Her hunger for him had made her weak in his eyes and he was looking down on her for it…fuck.

She smiled, "last chance my darling. This cage you're in belongs to me and I own everything behind these bars, including you".

Vergil rose, "the answer is no".

Akira bowed her head, "as you wish, I will not take you by force. You will come to me willingly on your hands and knees. I promise you that".

Vergil tilted, "do not forget my touch, for I will be the one to tear your heart out".

Akira groped her breasts provocatively, "maybe it wouldn't be such a bad death".

She clapped her hand and waited for the wardens to enter. Akira hoisted and turned her back to him. She wrapped the robe around her figure and transformed into her male self, rubbing his sore wrist which had fully healed.

"Make sure you cover his body, it is for my eyes only", inspecting his nails, "before you leave my darling, don't you want to know how that leech found your cell?"

Vergil knew the answer to this question, "the hybrid" he started to make his way out.

Akira grated "nothing gets passed those eyes of yours but I will tell you something else. He is a lost cause, you can never save him from himself", cleaning the pointless face paint "that cute little fox is destined to die behind these bars".

Vergil walked out of the door. Akira's smirk withered, he had been humiliated…again…but he had also found this man's weakness, his pride, and that's what he wanted to crush. These hybrids were proving to be very entertaining, stroking the intimate places Vergil's fingertips had acutely aroused.

"Demons can fall in love, especially with a devil like you".

Play-time was sadly over. Akira didn't want anyone else but this rough wolf that couldn't be disciplined and he really, really, wanted to be savaged by this specific beast. A spot-on sadist had been rehabilitated into a willing masochist, rubbing his rising cock in melting heat.

"Patience sure is bitter, but if the fruit is as sweet as you, I'm willing to wait".

Nero was lying down on the bottom bunk. He couldn't stop worrying about Vergil, fidgety. "Devil hunters huh...funny line of business", he stroked his hair in thought. "Guess it makes sense" he was chatting to himself when he heard footsteps. He turned to find Robertson standing in front of the bars with two other weighty guards.

"Didn't think I would forget about you...punk", he smirked and slid off his black jacket, rolling the sleeves of his shirt while another warden unlocked the cell.

Nero stood up to face him, "am not in the mood for your bullshit" he growled. He had no intention of going down without a fight and killing this bastard was becoming unavoidable.

Robertson stepped inside, "don't worry, we will take good care of you, so be a good boy and comply".

Nero didn't get a chance to react to the forthcoming threat as Robertson deviously stabbed his neck. It felt like a wasp had pricked him. He gazed at Robertson's hands in mess as he threw a small plastic object. 

"It's a pen injection containing a neuromuscular blocking drug. Causes paralysis but doesn't numb the pain". He cracked his knuckles and placed his jacket on the bed along with his hat. He gripped Nero's hair who was beginning to lose all bodily sensations, vision distorted.

"I can't stand fuckers like you", first punch splintered his ribs.

Nero groaned, out of breathe. His body couldn't adjust his inhalations because of the drugs; his respiratory muscles were shutting down.

Robertson let him fall to the floor, "pretending to be all innocent when you're just like all these other motherfucker's". He checked his knuckles, "pick him up", the two wardens obliged, clutching Nero's arms and holding him in position.

"You know I served in Vietnam. Was a lieutenant myself, seen a lot of fucked up shit. This is why in a place like this, I fit right in". He confined, "once you have seen the true face of war you can never come back to regularity".

Robertson took two batons and spun them in his hands, trying. He sliced Nero's legs and chest with bone crunching thumps, "violence is addicting, better than any drug once you get a taste for it". Pounding him in the chest and across his chin, panting. He flung the batons favouring his fists.

"Only two kinds of people in this world, those who inflict suffering and those who receive it. You fall in the latter category".

Nero tried to spit the blood from his mouth, which was slowly accumulating. He couldn't talk, his vocal cords gone and he had no control over his bodily functions.

One of the wardens holding him started to laugh "kid pissed his pants".

Robertson leered, "too bad, am just warming up".

He lifted Nero's head. "Last face you're going to see is mine".

Vergil had dressed in his new prison uniform and was being escorted by the same wary wardens. They hadn't bothered cuffing him. Vergil had no intentions of escaping, not until he had dealt with the hybrid. He had picked up the scent of blood much earlier, jaw clicking at the source. Nero was slumped face down enclosed in his blood.

Vergil articulated "do you not see him?"

The wardens squinted at Nero's lifeless body, "not our problem" shoving the other who was about to puke to quickly lock-up and get the fuck away.

Vergil frowned at them acquiescently as they left him to deal with the said "problem". The elder kneeled to assess the damage done turning Nero over mildly whose face was severely battered. Vergil widened his mouth to discern that the teen had bitten down on his tongue during his traumatic ordeal. The inside of his jaw was covered in fresh and dried blood. He tilted his chin and rested two fingers over his neck for a pulse. Nero didn't have one. Vergil pressed his fingertips over his lips...he wasn't breathing.

Venting "you really are bothersome" both brows arched in exasperation.

Vergil rubbed his temples in stark conflict. Letting the hybrid die was the right choice to make so why was he prodding his mind for a solution to save him. He stretched Nero's legs reluctantly and placed the heel of his hand over his chest, his other hand resting on top, applying timed compressions and pausing. It was having no affect. He leaned closer and pinched Nero's broken nose, staring at his mouth like it was the abyss. Vergil sighed in hesitation before leaning in and breathing two rapid rescue breaths, notwithstanding more roughly than needed, repeating the difficult process when he felt a slight effort. Nero had taken a laboured breathe, all on his own, followed by another...then another, conscious. Vergil observed acrimoniously for it had taken all of his willpower to make such intimate bodily contact. He favourably monitored Nero's breathing for a moment longer and turned his body onto his side so that he may breathe without difficulty, rising to wash his hands and lips.

"Idiot", he labelled the one on the road to recovery.

Vergil tore a portion of his blanket and rinsed it under the rickety tap. He had learned all this from watching his brother, who had saved countless humans with his endowed engagements. Dante would never leave a human to die if they had been unfortunate enough to cross paths with a demon. It was the first time he had done this for someone else. It left a strange feeling inside of him. Is this why his brother helped them? Vergil cleaned Nero's face and reviewed the gashes. He wasn't healing. The teen was still choosing to suppress his demonic blood. Vergil was maddened by the insight, soaking the cloth inside the sink and squeezing. Nero's eyes fluttered as the cold water spilled all over his face.

Vergil directed moodily, "heal your wounds", throwing the damp cloth from his hand.

Nero was dazed. He tried to lift himself but couldn't budge.

"M-my l-legs" he mouthed staring past Vergil, pupils heavily dilated.

Vergil sighed and delineated the complex patterns and scales on his devil arm amid his fingertips as if he was dividing them. He slit his wrist between his teeth and proceeded to drain his medicinal elixir as an alternative. The scales throbbed into being with palpitating light. Vergil didn't know if sharing his blood would work with another hybrid but the results were conclusive. Nero's breathing strengthened, torso rising and falling progressively, fingers regaining life, his body was slowly coming into being and awareness. Nero rotated onto his back and raised his human hand to touch Vergil's face.

"You're…here" the words were slurred.

Vergil lowered his warm hand away from his concentrated face as he allowed his wound to close. Nero struggled and twisted on the hard floor to sit upright, his knees bent but he couldn't raise his upper body which still felt benumbed. Nero lifted his arms and gripped Vergil's bears with both hands, forcing his limp body into a sitting position beside his rescuer. Nero's head thumped onto Vergil's shoulder...out of breathe.

"Did he...t-touch y-you?"

Vergil didn't like the close contact but endured, "that's none of your concern. Summon your devil...idiot" mislaying forbearance.

Nero was silent, quietly contemplating his words, he gazed outside the cell, "I can't...she will r-run a-away from me, she is...afraid of my d-devil".

Vergil followed his gaze and could only see an empty corridor, "who?"

Nero started to weep, he remembered Dante's words, "m-my…designated driver...I m-miss her, I don't have anyone else. She's afraid of me...I h-hurt her and promised to protect...I killed her...her death...by my hands they".

"I have a monster living inside of me...you have seen it...haven't you? The real me, the one I keep hidden and have to hide from...I'm afraid of myself".

Vergil glowered, the insecure hybrid was evidently delusional. It was clear they had used some kind of drug to control him and it hadn't lost its affects. He didn't like the feel of his warm tears on his shoulder or the smell of his blood on his skin. It was leaving him unsettled. He didn't know how to react so eluded.

"Release me".

Nero clutched strongly, "p-please...let me stay by your...side, just for a few moments...t-tired...your presence is..." growing steadily quiet.

Vergil would understand him. They had never needed words to convey their emotions. This man's touch had bought him something he had lost a long time ago, a feeling of belonging. How could he let him go?

Vergil inspected Nero's arms and legs which were riddled by emerald coloured contusions from the brutal beating he had been subjected to, recalling the way his brother had placed a comforting hand over his head. He imitated the movement, his trim fingertips inelegantly resting inside Nero's hair that elevated his head and even ventured a heart rendering smile.

"T-thank you", he respired.

The adolescent situated his body amid Vergil's and laid his head to recline on his chest, allowing his body to sink into darkness. He had, at all times, craved rest and rest like this was...circling the boundaries of this peaceful enclosure with his quivering arms, wrapping Vergil's stomach and shutting out the rest of this world. He was safe...safe...rootless.

Vergil couldn't move. Uncertain if he should adjust Nero who had managed to burrow between his legs, one hand resting on the floor, the other still concealed inside his hair holding his floppy head in position. Vergil leaned back against the unreceptive wall to extend his strained legs. He bit into his wrist and started to drain his blood into Nero's thirsty devil arm, eyes assessing the hybrids face which looked oddly contented. His uncompromising eyes moderated.

"You really are just a sniffling child".

Vergil had made up his mind...they would leave this perdition, together.


	10. A Part of You

Leon strode off the bus and made his way dourly inside his apartment complex. He used his key card and arrived inside the protection of his fully furnished two bedroom apartment, pouring a glass of water in the open plan kitchen. Gullet was completely dry thanks to the damned nightmare or nightmares to be exact. Who knew his first day on the job would be this…bothered…each time he closed his eyes the same images rushed, those flames, those wraith-like crimson eyes…those two guys…heaving a regrettable sigh. He was intrigued and that usually meant trouble for him, he was finding it hard not to be drawn into this darker world which evidently may or may not exist and he had become fixated with. Leon propped his elbows over the kitchen counter with an absolute headache.

He moaned, "what the hell is wrong with me?!"

Nero's voice echoed inside his soul, "it's too late…your…a part of me".

The muddled blonde shook his head, unsure what exactly to believe.

"A part of you…huh", recalling his bizarre hair. "Thanks a lot!”

Leon wondered into his bedroom and sat on his neatly made bed. He logged into the police force central database, on his charging laptop. Obsessed with wanting to find the identities of the two males that were about to ruin his life. Leon dredged up the younger ones name, "Nero" and added their basic description. White hair, Caucasian male, blue eyes, he hit the search tab impatiently. The search produced three hits…"three?" He scrolled down and was surprised to say the least. "Twins", he polished his stinging cheek and bit his nail in tension. Which twin had he been talking too exactly?

"David and Vincent, automobile theft…joy riding" murmuring their offenses.

The twins didn't have any previous convictions so would likely do a few months depending on good behaviour in corrections. Nero on the other hand was in for life. He couldn't believe the shocking details and violence behind his crimes. Leon refused to accept what he was reading...thinking...he needed more background information on these men, specifically their families. He had to know if the girl he had seen was real and if she was, so was everything else. He took his mobile from the desktop and dialled his friend's number he hadn't seen in a while. They had trained at the same Academy but he had gone onto become a private investigator. Leon knew he couldn't ask Chris for any help. The big guy wouldn't stop worrying and he couldn't afford to have him involved, his instincts warning him that he was caught in a spider's web. What the spider looked like was something he wanted to find out, alone, receiving a click followed by a deep voice.

"Leon? You dick" was the preferred hello from the other side.

Leon grinned, "Michael, how's it going?"

Michael chuckled, "piss off you jerk, it's not like you care. You still joined at the hip with Chris?"

Leon caught his reflection in the mirror, the feathery snow strands were seemingly one with his dirty blonde. It was crazy to think he actually preferred his hair this way. Any plans to colour and hide these magical threads vanished not that it would have worked. These magnificent whites were a token of facts.

Michael snapped "earth to Leon, you still there? Tell me what you need and don't sugar coat it you sly bastard".

Leon was all business, "listen Mike, I need some urgent information on three men. You think you can dig up their place of birth, family history, and anything else of relevance?"

Michael paused, "why not ask Chris, he has access to every database you can imagine".

Leon was quiet for a few moments, "Chris is busy. He got promoted recently, working his ass to an early grave and I’ll pay you for your efforts".

Michael sighed, "Bastard, like I would take your money…you owes me a few drinks and Claire's number as real incentive".

Leon joked "think she might be taken Michael, let it go already".

Michael rebuffed "don't piss on my hopes you jerk. I think she still remembers me...doesn't she?"

Leon shook his head, "seriously Mike, I need this information as soon as possible. Think you up for it?"

Michael was quiet, "I will see what I can do, send me their details over email and oh, say hello to Claire for me would you".

Leon copied their files over, "am sending the info now and Mike, I think Claire might be coming over today" ending the call with a concluding gibe and obvious fib.

It was almost 7 p.m. by the time he shed his clothes and turned on the shower, deciding to remove his dressing from around his forehead tentatively, fingers skimming the stitches which had fallen out, "what?!" He rubbed his skin roughly with both hands unbelieving, picking up the shaving mirror to review his head more accurately, paranoid and speechless. There was no cut there was no wound...nada.

Leon rubbed the steamy mirror and checked over his cheek which wasn't healed. It didn't make any sense. He gave up and entered the cascades to think more clearly, shutting his eyes as the warm waters trailed his over thinking mind. The thing that had saved his life, inside that burning cell, definitely had a scent? Managing to remember it vividly now...when he had flung the other guy off of him he had picked it up again in the air. How could he be so stupid? There was no one else in that cell besides the three of them, which meant the thing that held him had to be that loud guy...certain.

The girl's face coasted into his consciousness, stopping his trajectory of thoughts, she was burned to death…her tormented cries as those two pigs raped her. Who did she remind him off? He only had a few photos of his mother and they had completely different faces but...their eyes were identical. Maybe, all mothers have the same eyes filled with unconditional love. Leon's strained body sat, resting his head against the glass panel, recalling the rain he had felt as he had buried his father...all over again...tired and confused he actually fell asleep, coming to, when his skin had all but wrinkled, lazily climbing to his feet and grabbing a towel to wrap and dry. Feeling a little refreshed he headed into the kitchen for a grand meal located inside an expired carton of instant noodles, too hungry to care when he heard the buzzer go off, dropping the packet, tense. He wasn't expecting any visitor's and no one knew his new address, including his crazy ex-girlfriend, deciding to peep through the hole. Considering all the fun he had just had he rather have a quiet night in? The hallway was thankfully empty. Leon opened the door fully and browsed, being careful, when two arms launched around his neck.

"Surprise", she laughed.

Leon was elated as he slipped his arms about Claire's waist and cuddled happily. It felt good to have his family here. Something about the recent events had burned him out and he needed the company to say the least.

"When did you get back?" She was still in Somalia the last he heard.

Claire smiled, her pretty brown fringe and pony tail had grown much longer, smart blue eyes widening as she noticed his cheek. Even while dressed down in faded blue jeans and a simple tight red blouse she would turn heads, fiery, "first day and they already did a number on you?" Letting him go, hands on her hips. "You coloured your hair...looks really funky".

Chris came and stood beside her, less thrilled, "she insisted dropping here to check up on you. I had problem finding parking".

He was wearing his black coat, fitted charcoal pants and a white shirt. He must have headed straight here after work which surprised Leon. Chris was a workaholic and 8.00 p.m. was working hours, not even bothering to glance his way, seemingly preoccupied with two large bags of Chinese food. The smell made Leon's stomach rumble loudly, instant noodles forgotten. Chris handed him a bag, eyes falling on his face and then the towel, concerned.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Leon frowned, it was the second time he had heard these words from two very different men. A sense of Déjà vu overcame him. "Just a little initiation at the prison...I think".

Chris's dark eyes inspected his skin critically. He had a cop's eagle eye. Leon had to be careful.

Claire gripped Chris's cheek and pulled it hard, "don't you start your interrogation big brother" she teased.

He calmed "alright, I'll interrogate him over dinner", assessing his suspect who was brazenly inspecting the contents of the bag.

Chris grabbed it from his hand, "put some God damn pants on first", he slipped his arm around Claire to emphasise his point.

Leon swiped his dripping face without retaliating making Chris more worried. Something was definitely off, walking inside with Claire in toe. She had a good look around the apartment before crashing on the leather sofa with a few plates stolen from the kitchenette, opening the entire contents of the take-out. Leon changed into his night clothes; grey cotton pants and a white T-shirt, drying his hair roughly and pitching the towel on the floor to seat on the floor beside Claire. They had always been close. She wrapped her arms about his neck and handed him a hot box.

"You lost weight...eat up".

Leon propped his head against her knee and she stroked his white hair curiously. "You have to tell me what hair product you used. It looks really natural".

Chris choked on his drink, finally noticing his odd hair. He could have sworn it was normal this morning. Leon was hiding something, he could tell. He was unusually quiet and distracted. Chris handed the two of them a beer and sat down next to Claire to get a good look at him. It wasn't just the hair which was bothering him. His skin looked discoloured too. What kind of initiation would involve these bizarre things? Chris picked up his box.

Leon sipped his warm beer "so Claire when did you get back and how long you here for?"

Claire dipped a spring roll in some sauce and took a large bite, some spilling onto her new jeans. She moaned and tried to clean it with a tissue, "two days, here to train some Student Ambassadors, a few conferences and then flying back".

Leon rested his head on her lap and slid one arm around her leg, "heard you met someone?"

Claire blushed and gave Chris an irritated look, "just a Co-worker nothing serious", she lied.

Chris sipped his beer, "not what I heard from my sources".

Claire flung a cushion at his head. "Sucks having an older brother who is a cop", she lay back on the sofa, feeling sorry for herself.

Leon smirked, "he’s probably researched the poor guy's entire family history".

Claire snorted at her brother who glared at Leon, "you know it's true" confident.

Chris placed his plate on the floor. The two of them smirked at each other. They knew a lecture was approaching, served in his usual serious tone; they could see the crease in his brows and is back arching straight.

"It’s my responsibility to look after the two of you being the eldest".

Claire was mouthing the words and Chris tugged her pony tail unimpressed. Claire fended off his attack.

"We're not kids anymore Chris, you got to quit treating us like we're still 10, we can kick ass. Leon beat your marks on the physical".

Chris brushed his hair, "you two have a way of finding trouble".

They were hell-raisers as teenagers, having lost count of the number of times they had snuck out, behind his back, knowing he would be there to pick up their drunken asses out of some shabby alleyway, park, and even dumpsters. Chris gazed down at Leon who had gone quiet, realising he had fallen asleep.

Chris eyed him suspiciously "sneaky dog probably knew I was going to question him".

Claire smiled, "lay off Chris, he looks tired I don't think we should wake him".

Chris nod, feeling partly responsible, he didn't think Leon would be battered on the first day. He could handle himself making him worry even more.

Claire slipped a cushion under his head and stood up, "is he still depressed about that exam?" She spoke quietly and started to clean up the empty boxes and plates.

Chris glanced, "I doubt it he was fine this morning when I dropped him off".

Claire headed towards the sink and started to wash the dishes, "keep an eye on him Chris".

Chris huffed "so now you're asking me".

Claire confirmed "this time you have my permission".

Chris adjusted his collars in thought. He would have to pay a personal visit to the prison for closer inspection. Something about his last visit hadn't felt right crouching, testing the white hair between his fingers, his intelligent eyes assessing the colour carefully. It was natural, there was no way in hell Leon would colour it at random, his fingertips rubbing the unusual abrasions next.

"What sort of trouble are you in now you shithead?"

Chris sighed in guilt he had been pushing him too hard. The look on Leon's face tonight had reminded him of the day his father had passed away. The news had been shocking. He had rushed to be by his friend's side, letting himself into the busy house full of cops, well-wishers and distant family members. Leon was nowhere, climbing the staircase towards his bedroom. The door wasn't locked, stepping inside to find Leon standing next to the windows, seemingly older than the last time they had met...distant. Chris could tell he had been crying, he looked fatigued, as if he had been running from something and had finally given up and surrendered. That defeated expression had scared him. All he could do was stand quietly, unsure what to say or do to comfort him, in the end they had stood together in silence and simply watched strangers passing by down on the streets below. Maybe words were not needed between them...he was wrong.

Chris had watched Leon withdraw quietly from the rest of the world. He had never left his side, afraid of losing him to this emptiness that seemed to radiate from his eyes. They had spent countless hours in each other's company as Leon seemingly drowned himself in alcohol, talking about rudimentary things of trivial importance but never about the ones that truly bothered him, the one that had caused his heart to break; his father's death. Chris had wanted to reach out to him only to find the spaces in-between steadily growing. On the way home, like so many nights before them, they had walked down those dim streetlights. Leon's unsteady figure walking a few paces in front of him, dressed down in a pair of blue jeans and a black t-shirt. Chris stopped to contemplate.

Leon had always been quiet and thoughtful. Always there for others regardless of who they were...selfless. But when it came to himself he preferred to ride the storm alone. A part of Chris hated this side of him. He would never open his heart to anyone else to share his burdens. Not even to him, the person he was closest to. Chris didn't know how to heal his friend's wounds and continued to watch him crumble before his eyes. The process was becoming painful to bear for reasons he couldn't understand, defeated. These last few months had taken a toll on him. When he looked up Leon was standing there with boozy temperaments, studying his face.

"Your eyes…Chris t-their...they're really sad…" incessantly poking his face.

Chris grated, "I fucking look sad?" He pushed him back roughly and started to walk with his head down, "forget it, you will never change".

Leon stood their confused by the gesture he fumbled with his top and caught up to him. Chris eyed him impatiently as he thumped his shoulder.

Leon steadied "you know what your problem is?"

Chris slipped his hands into the confines of his casual denims as to prevent punching his face, "fill me in".

Leon hugged him wholeheartedly, Chris could smell the gin and tonic on his breathes and feel the caress of that golden hair as it brushed his jaw, "you…worry too much and you know I will be just...fine" the slurred reassurance.

Chris slid out his hands and embraced him...relieved. It was what he should have done that day, such a simple gesture and yet so profoundly comforting. It was also what he needed to hear. Leon was intuitive and had known all along just how he was feeling.

He opened up, "why don't you want to talk about his death Leon?"

Leon squeezed his shoulders harder in reply, "coz I got you guys…you and Claire. I'm not alone, you guys are family..." letting go clumsily.

Chris was pacified, "stupid jerk does it every time" wondering who was taking care of who here, grabbing Leon's swaying shoulder to help him walk straight.

Leon stared at the sky and slipped his arm around his waist, "I want to fly one day" he pointed for emphasis.

“I rather have a pair of black wings, the white ones look girly".

Chris smiled, "let's get your drunken ass home".

It was almost 3:00 p.m., feeling tired but the added weight he had been carrying had been lifted from his shoulders.

Leon frowned, "see, I'm not drunk, I can still take off my clothes", reviewing his jeans. "I thought I was naked but my pants are still on Chris. There still on right?" He looked anxious.

Chris couldn't help a chuckle leaving his lips, "this never gets old" no matter how many times Leon had gotten drunk the remarks were always this funny.

Leon's brows creased when he heard his laughter, "you know, next time you can be the sexy cheerleader".

Chris glared, "what the hell is that supposed to mean"?

Leon grinned, "I cheered you up that's all" his suspicious snickering made Chris think otherwise.

He had never forgotten that night. They had bickered and laughed the rest of the way home. Dawn had slowly crept through the dark streets, a sudden reminder that there is always a beautiful sunrise over the horizon, even after a long and bitter night. As long as they had each other they could find shelter from the storm, rubbing his tired eyes.

"Claire, I need some coffee".

Claire saluted, "I'm on it Captain".

Chris slumped on the settee knowing the two of them would be the probable cause of his premature white hair.


	11. Another Version of the Truth

Leon sensed a familiar hand resting over his cheek followed by a harsh pinch. He rubbed his skin and swatted the hand away.

"Claire...give me a minute", he rolled to one side and felt like he was lying down on rigid rocks.

He caught a gentleman's deep laughter before the frolicsome words.

"Am tempted to kiss you sleeping beauty", rough lips grooming the side of his jaw, with deadly intent.

Leon's eyes shot open, gazing up in bafflement to find Dante smirking at him, clad in his prison uniform, mystified. He was prostrate on a familiar road, walled by sweeping meadows, heart palpitating, he sat up sharply and head-butted the hunter who hadn't bothered moving out of his way.

"Shit", they burst out in accord and held their throbbing heads.

Leon spoke low, "don't you know anything about personal space?"

Dante reminded "if I remember correctly, you were all over me last time and I don't remember complaining".

They both gazed back at each other inquisitively, realizing, very quickly, this wasn't a hallucination. They were really here. As if appraising his inner views Dante stabbed his cheek a few times and reviewed his apparel judgmentally. He moaned.

"Why are you in my dream?"

Doubling his strapping arms in open disappointment "out of all the hot blonde babes that could have been here in their nighties, it had to be you".

Leon shoved his face, "too bad, this isn't your dream", dusting his clothes, standing.

They were both barefooted, eyes observing the details surrounding them. Leon knew he wasn't losing his mind. This place was real. It had to be. Every aspect was the same as the last time. Having this man here from the cell only confirmed his intuition. This specific location was somehow related to the flames from Nero's devil arm. He gawked and spotted the two farmers, cutting through the small patchy grass towards the cornfield to get to them. Dante gaped in confusion and followed after, halting when he noticed the pretty flowers growing along the way, they were dazzling, and he couldn't resist plucking one.

Leon had gone astray inside the labyrinth of soaring stalks and had lost sight of the two men. He didn't remember it being like a maze. The corn seemed to be mounting in height with each step he took, halting mid-stride to dislodge the prickle attached to his heel. Dante bumped into him from behind, knocking him to the floor like a rag-doll, landing on his abdomen. Out of all probable people that could have been here with him, it had to be this aggravating guy. He didn't even know which of the twins this moron "David or Vincent" was. He sat brusquely and cleaned his elbows.

Dante chuckled at his quietly fuming face, "sorry Blondie, guess I don't know my own strength, huh", caressing his messy mane.

"Y' know, this is pretty romantic and since we are just dreaming...how about we try something...new?"

Those devilish eyes tightened, the way predators would when it has stumbled across a small, unsuspecting, kill. What those prisoners had said in the cell had stimulated his other interests. He couldn't help but think Blondie was cute, and above all, he hadn't been laid in over a week…badly repressed. It was safe to say, he was feeling rather horny and could blow off some "steam", still uncertain if this place was real, he could likely get away with being careless, without guilt or unnecessary complications. These were desperate times, deciding to flatter his potential playmate by supernaturally creating a purple flower in his right hand, on one knee of course.

"For you", he winked, checking out Leon's butt.

The officer was left wordless. Being in the patient and in control category, this man was managing to push him towards mild exasperation. So much so, that he wanted to throttle him. Who would have thought that even he could have murderous intents, whacking the flower out of Dante's hand whose eyes widened in reaction?

"Would you quit pissing around? I told you this isn't a dream" calmly.

"You will remember everything when you wake up you...understand?"

Dante puckered in overstatement and leaned into his body, "there is only one way to find out...officer" in a rasping voice.

Leon smirked sweetly, "your right. There is something I want to discover about you too".

Dante grew egotistical, "most folks usually can't resist my sex appeal".

He closed his eyes and waited for Blondie to make the first move, uninterested in foreplay, hoping to have his divergent cock roused immediately.

Leon punched him square in the jaw and groaned in pain. His knuckle had split open and was wringing heavily. Dante was still in anticipation of some loving and hadn't even flinched. Leon gripped his chin jaggedly and reviewed his skin.

"I knew it you bastard, you're not human…you were that thing holding me", still clutching his stinging knuckle.

Dante opened his eyes rapidly, "guess you need time to think things over, in the meantime care to explain what's going on?" He placed both hands behind his head and stretched his arms.

Leon ignored him and started to make his way out of the cornfield. "Did you fall asleep?" He said trying to find his way back.

Dante plucked a sweetcorn absentmindedly, "I may have, last thing I remember was lying down in bed. It's not like I can do anything else behind bars".

He remembered the God forsaken leech and winced. The earlier parasite attack had left him tired enough to nod off early. The likelihood that this wasn't a dream was becoming clearer, yet a part of him still refused to believe they were actually here.

Leon could see the path up ahead, relieved, about to make his way out when he saw her, heart contesting, "no", tripping backwards into Dante's chest who wrapped him inside his spirited arms.

Whistling loudly, "finally, a sexy babe" he bobbed favourably.

Glancing at Leon for feedback that looked ruffled for the first time. Blondie was distressed. Now was his opening to comfort him.

Dante fondled positively, "don't worry…I will protect you".

Leon shrugged him off and stepped out of the cornfield. The kids were back to pelt her with stones, hands folding into tight fists. He wanted to kill them this time, glaring at the skies to calm his mental strain. Dante's eyes lessened, smile fading from his lips.

"Little shits" he squabbled, heading over to teach the tiny runts about respect.

Leon averted, "don't...follow her" through gritted teeth.

Dante lectured, "officer, isn't it your job to serve and protect?"

Leon looked hurt and saddened by his words, "I…can't…do it again…I can't watch her…"

Dante huffed, "if you're not up for it, I will show you how it's done".

Leon gripped his wrist tightly, "don't follow her".

Dante could hear the tremor and hurt in his voice. It was clear he had been here before and knew exactly what was about to happen.

Huffing, "what did you see officer", cleaning the corn he had plucked, staring at the crouching girl who reminded him of somebody…who?

Leon grew quiet, avoiding her direction, "she dies…they...rape her…burn her to death, his...mother", watching the two culprits he could never reach.

Dante's brows creased in muddle, "mother", finally noticing the tiny malnourished toddler as he came into view, it was Nero. The abject sight of those tiny hands grazing his mother's bleeding temple made his heart utterly sting. Dante rubbed his chest nervously, the pain was physical.

Leon continued "that's why I asked him about her in the cell…his name is Nero right", inspecting Dante's face which looked strangely pale, he knew this man had the answers to all his one-sided questions.

"You and he are the same, aren't you?"

Dante flung the sweetcorn onto to the dried grass. Unsure how much to tell him. He didn't want Leon to get tangled in their perilous affairs. Blondie was strong for a human and he genuinely liked the guy which is why he didn't want him to end up dead. The three of them were dangerous company to be around. Trying to understand why they had ended up here in the first place or what this place was. It could be a memory but he couldn't help but wonder if it was the kid's devil that had bought them here. He had felt something inside those flames but what? It was clear they held healing powers but a part of them had touched his spirit. This place felt like purgatory. Only his brother would have the answer but Vergil wasn't here, which would mean he probably wasn't asleep like the two of them. They both stood in silence before Leon spoke again.

"I think it's a memory…of his and we are caught up in it".

He felt crushing culpability as she picked Nero up, knowing, she was walking to her death. He gripped the white strands of his blonde hair mechanically, it was calming.

"You can't save her" miserably, when he realised he was standing alone. Dante had left him behind.

Leon panicked and ran down the empty road, strained eyes widening with dread. They were back in the square. The dwelling was crowded with people, the sweet scent of fresh drupes swarming. He pushed past to find the apple farm cart. Dante was standing beside her as she checked the fruit tentatively. Leon knew this man must have been drawn to her the same way he had been. What he didn't know was that she reminded Dante of Eva, his own mother. How could he not follow after her?

Dante plucked an apple and ruffled Nero's hair "so cute", the remark.

Leon caught up beholding pissed, "you don't understand, it's not just his memories which will play out." Intense eyes appearing grey, "you will re-live the one that has hurt you the most…" there was no other way of putting it.

"You want to tear your heart out…then go ahead, face your inner demons" he sounded.

They stared at each other as it suddenly grew darker. The sun was setting, twilight imminent. They were erected near the lake, the last rays of the sun kissing the waters rims, enlightening the scattered Lilies. The colour reminded Dante of his mother's golden tresses. "Dante"...a woman's forgiving cry was appealing to him and rising from behind the closed doors of an unnerving cottage concealed within these sparse lands.

"Don't hide...mommy is here" the screech.

Dante's breathes were deafening, fourteen, hiding inside his cupboard, her footsteps approaching, heart pounding. Could she hear it? His mother entered his room, gripping a knife in one hand, her extended hair masking her face. Black nightgowns making her skin look ghost-like. Her once blue eyes are clouded white, nails bulging, dripping black gunge. This was not Eva. This was not his mother. He felt a small hand squeeze his. He noticed a small toddler was huddling inside his arms, it was Nero. His devil arm started to pulse rapidly revealing their frightened faces, the light was reassuring, they both started to cry, frightened. Dante squeezed Nero and peeked through the crack. Two men were hurting the girl he had seen on the road, she was in tremendous pain. Nero was hiding from them like she had told him to do so.

"Mama" he whimpered.

Dante placed a trembling finger over his lips to silence him, afraid. He was no match for these brutish looking men. He also had to hide from his own mother. If she found him she would kill him. The men were dousing the girl in gasoline…she was covered in so much blood.

"Run my sweet children", she begged for them to escape.

Her maternal eyes never leaving the place the two of them were hiding. Dante bit his knuckle to stifle a painful sob. He could feel the love in her voice...he wanted to help her but his body was frozen with terror. He held Nero closer who was trembling inside his arms, waiting for the two men to leave. They were still standing near the doors talking. "Run", she yelled. Dante found his courage in her voice. He grabbed Nero and stepped out of the closet, too late, she was set on fire. The sight of her burning body left him stunned, the tears falling silently from his eyes. They had killed her.

"Found you my little monkey" the jeer.

Eva's neck was dislocated and her movements were unnatural as she crawled down the ceiling on all fours.

"Why do you hide from mommy, let me give you a kiss", her forked tongue tasting his scent. The sight was chilling.

"Vergil", he whimpered as she crawled towards him on all fours, her nose bleeding from dragging on the hard ground, the knife catching the light in her right hand. She towered over him as he stood frozen in place.

"You have been a naughty boy, let mommy punish you".

This was not his mother but then again he didn't want to hurt her. His eyes fell on Nero who ran into the burning flames, while he stood trembling like a coward. He heard police sirens in the distance and the sound of gunfire before the bombarding rain. Dante opened his eyes to find Leon standing beside him clad in a black suit, crying as he threw the soil on his father's coffin, sixteen years old, his young face held only suffering.

"I told you not to follow her" his voice was breaking.

Dante finally understood. The three of them were sharing each other's most painful memories, as one. He had witnessed Nero's mother's death and was now sharing Leon's. Dante stared at the coffin. The sight of it reminded him of his own father…Sparda, palms folded as he evoked the last time he had seen him.

"Dante" he could hear his father calling his name and he closed his eyes.

Sparda was sliding on his chic black jacket. Every movement was neat. He was an epitome of power, sophistication, and grace as he adjusted the cuffs of his tailor made suit. His white hairs slicked back flawlessly, his full smile reaching his cerulean eyes. The dimples, neither of them had inherited, amplifying his jawline. Vergil was the only one who had innately cultured his father's finesse, even though they were twins. Deep voice embedded with tenderness.

"I will be back a little later than usual Dante, something urgent has come up involving a dear friend I haven't seen in some time", sliding on his coat and adjusting the lapels of his white shirt.

Dante nod, he was too busy playing on the gaming console to even glance his father's way.

Sparda detached with mild hesitation, "please take care of your mother in my absence…until my return".

If Dante had known this was the last time he would see Sparda he would never have let him out of his sight. Their family had fallen apart; their father had failed to keep his last words and had never returned. A loving hand laid to rest over his aggrieved face unlocking his closed eyes, "don't cry Dante..." his mother's tender reassurance. Dante wrapped his arms around her neck. His mother was here.

"I could never hurt you mom...I miss you" he choked.

Eva laughed softly beside his ear and cuddled tightly, "you won't".

Dante could smell her perfume…touch her warmth, her essence. He had missed his mother's embrace. A sharp stab punched his chest, followed by a horrid cackle. Dante gazed down to find a knife embedded inside his flesh. She stabbed him again in his rib and punctured his right lung, the soaring pain crippling. He wanted to save her, he didn't want his mother to die, so didn't move from her restraining arms. Dante couldn't afford to lose Eva, the way he had Sparda. Her son didn't fend off her attacks. The knife came down on his body again and again but he couldn't let her go. Resting his head on her shoulder and caressing her hair.

"What a good boy you are" as her talons ripped his skin to shreds.

"Lay your head down child and fall asleep inside my arms", she licked his cheek hungrily as his blood splattered onto his skin from her ruthless assaults. Someone was screaming at him from a distance to fight back…he couldn't hear…completely lost to his fleeting cognizance.

Leon wrapped her neck and struggled to dislodge the knife. The wicked sprite raised her hand and struck him across the chest with savage strength. He hit the adjacent wall with a hard thud, rolling over and coughing blood, glaring.

"Fight back you…you asshole" crawling towards Dante whom turned away.

Leon halted when a towering figure materialised out of thin air above him. Eyes bloody slits, body striking black and blue, shadowy wings withdrawing as he landed with poise, the dark creature observing a black devil was wielding a striking katana. White fangs bore as he snarled deafeningly. Leon covered his ears, the sound distributing vibrations through his body. He was seeing the thing that had held him inside the cell, in the flesh. The sight was truly petrifying and utterly magnificent…a dark angel.

Dante burned, "Vergil", his brother had come to his rescue.

The devil turned to face the unpleasant sorceress, "you were always such a bad boy Vergil", sucking the knife and extending her hand, "let mommy hold you too, come".

The blue devil impaled her heart with a singular strike. She gazed down at the blade in blow as it was sliced rearwards by the one removing what he had carved. Dante held her inside his arms before she could fall. He laid Eva gently onto his lap as she lay dying, the knife falling from her clasp. The white clouds that had descended her vision were clearing into their heavenly blues. Their mother was quietly awakened from whatever had possessed her spirit. Her gentle stare attached to the devil's that had inadvertently protected her. She raised a yearning hand towards her other son, "V-Vergil" she named with affection. The devil slanted his head, his gaze undaunted as the katana climbed treacherously towards Dante's neck.

Dante wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of his hand, "don't leave us mom...like he did…you can't", the broken words barely left his lips. He could see the colour returning to her cheeks. "Please don't leave me...mom, please d-don't, how I can survive…without you", his tears fell over her face and she turned to face him. He could see the light fading from her eyes as she cupped his face gently with one hand.

"You have your brother, he...will always watch over you" delicately.

Dante gripped her hand and kissed it, knowing, she had said the words that he wanted to hear the most, even though they were a lie. Vergil didn't care for him and she had always known this fact. Her dying eyes never left the motionless devil. A single tear escaping her eyes as she uttered, "Sparda"…chest stumbling and stopping her tired breathes.

Dante caught…listening for her respires…"mom" he kissed her hair. Vergil had saved his mother with his actions. The demon that had possessed her body would have devoured her soul…Dante screamed and rocked her body "it should have been me. I should have...saved you". He hadn't been strong enough.

"V-Verge is that...r-really you?"

Dante was regaining consciousness…he knew these were his own reminiscences…that felt so unbelievably real. Yet he wasn't strong enough to pick up the shattered pieces of himself. Eva's death had destroyed him, eyes enlarging. Vergil would leave him too. He had never loved him. He hated being around him. Dante could never bridge the distance between them. New fear had gripped his heart; he would lose his brother forever, the only surviving member of their family. He stared back into the crimson eyes of the devil before him to find himself swimming against a never-ending tide, with no end in sight. How he wished he could escape these deep-rooted insecurities. They were twins weren't they? Wasn't he a part of Vergil? Then why was it his brother couldn't hear him crying, hear his anguished screams, and see his tears. Why couldn't Vergil see him? It was as if he didn't exist inside his brother's uncompromising eyes.

Dante's childhood had been lonely. He had persistently followed his twin's shadow and he had constantly felt his denunciation. Vergil couldn't stand the sight of him. His past rejection had been painful to bear. Everyone he loved was gone and the one person he needed the most was oblivious to his very existence. Losing Vergil would be the death of him. He wished his twin could end his empty being. The feel of his cold katana touching his neck was heartening. Yamato could end his suffering once and for all, it was a part of Vergil and the blade was what he had loved the most. The only time his brother was truly animated was when it was gripped inside his hands and dissecting the body of his adversaries. Vergil was fading into darkness, cerise eyes regarding him with repulsion. Why did his twin stare at him this way? Can Vergil see him for what he was and what he so desperately hides?

Dante's body shivered. "Please don't leave me Verge" his mother's body had already turned to dust inside his arms.

Everyone he loved was…gone. Everything that held meaning was lost. He had no reason to go on except for the person who stood in front of him in silence, his brother, his other half, his reason for living. He lifted his hand and reached out, once more, towards his reflections fading figure. Vergil's body seemingly one with the dark as he stepped away from his outstretched hand, the distance between them growing. Yamato sliced his palm. His brother didn't want him. His brother had never needed him. His brother would abandon him. Those identical eyes that held that fearsome ocean would never love him.

Dante smiled sadly, "I know you hate me bro, you've always hated me…I k-know"?

The words barely audible, he had finally accepted the reality. He had always seen something inside his brother's stare. Vergil would leave him behind, like his mother and father did, stroking his hair in loss, disoriented. He was all alone in the world, an orphan, neither human nor devil…nonentity. A shaky hand gripped his shoulder.

"Stupid asshole I...warned you", smearing his tears.

Dante was staring past him, "he…he left me…he hates me, he has always...hated me" in a daze.

Leon cupped his face angrily, "he...he hasn't left you, it's just a vision, a fear".

He could see the tears still dipping from Dante's eyes as he turned to stare at the place the devil had stood. He looked devastated as he sat there. Leon didn't know what to do worried he held Dante's unresponsive body inside his chest, wrapping him amid his arms. In the same manner Nero had held him. Dante didn't respond. Leon's brows knitted in concern gently stroking the clammy mane of the silvery threads that he had grown so attached to, gazing down.

"It's alright when you wake up...your brother will be by your side. I promise".

Leon had shared this man's most intimate memories. He had seen the devil and he knew exactly what he was, but in this fleeting moment none of that really mattered. Dante buried his face into his rib-cage and Leon tightened his embrace. He tilted his head and could see the blue flames warming the room. Nero was healing her burned body. Dante remained stock-still. Leon placed his arms around his waist and lifted him to his feet with all his strength. He dragged him towards the edge of the bed. Dante's eyes fell on her body as Nero healed his mother's skin with his burning flames. They both closed their eyes as the conflagrations caressed their skins. Nero's light held deep curing. They could breathe again, the air returning to their weary lungs, the tears drying to a stop from their tired eyes, a calm stillness washing over, the hurt, anger, pain and anguish lifted. When they opened their eyes it was to a tranquil dawn. Nero was burying his mother beside the lake.

Dante glanced at Leon who was still holding him "you're stronger than you look" he said in a drained voice.

Leon stared out across the lake "I have a weird feeling I owed you one...think you saved my life in that cell". He met Dante's stare, "we're even now?"

Dante was unusually quiet, no smart remarks, or any signs of mischief. "I didn't catch your first name officer Kennedy".

Leon smirked, "its Leon and yours?"

"Dante" was the rapid reply.

Leon paused...this name didn't match his records, diverted when the hunters hand lay behind his neckline. Leon froze at the contact, it felt intimate.

"Thank you...Leon" he whispered, inclining their temples with gratitude.

Nero was watching the two of them closely. Leon smiled and strode towards him, he knew now he was a part of this very special teen, these dreams were real, inspecting the grave on one knee, capturing the sound, scents, and sights of this consecrated location. One way or another, they had to find their way back here…it was like a divination that had to be fulfilled...a foresight.

The adolescence called, "brother".

Dante responded without hesitation. How could he forget what the kid had suffered, that small toddler that had held him so tightly, staring at the ferocious flames building inside his arm, fearless.

Nero eyed the grave, "our mother" he reminded, stroking Dante's jawline with his claw who understood the true meaning behind these tear-jerking words.

"I'm sorry kid" about to ruffle his hair when the teen leaned into his lips and kissed them, engraving in love. Dante could only stare in divided rift, for these lips concealed a dark secret that Nero had staunchly scraped.

Leon smiled and stood up to join the two of them impulsively.

Dante placed his hand over his shoulder. "Guess there is no turning back for you Blondie. You're a part of our group now".

Leon grinned "don't think I ever had a choice" prepared, gasping Nero's shoulder forming a solid circle between their stands.

Dante gazed at the freshly dug earth and remembered Eva. The two had scattered her ashes in a lake close to their family home. Vergil had stood beside him and it was the second time his brother had ever embraced him. This time, it was Nero who was clutching him resolutely, his face the last thing he saw as his body was set blazing by roaring fires. He wondered if pain can bring people closer together. Leon gripped his shoulder in retort, as they burned as one. It could, it had, and they couldn't part ways with it. These complex emotions had been mutually sealed the moment these flames had travelled their skins. A sense of belonging had already crept into their hearts, walking a tightrope between reality and reveries. Little did they know unstoppable destiny was driving their shared fates?


	12. HeartBeats

Nero's head snapped to one side and his eyes unlocked. Licking his lips to the taste of gore, brows lined in doubt as he rubbed his face, his wounds were mended…how…raising his top to examine his chest. There were a few fading contusions but nothing compared to the severity of his injuries last night, flustering when he noticed where he was seated. Vergil was sleeping. Punitive expression was remarkably still, hair tumbling over his brows, hands latent on each side. Nero had never sat this close to this man, reduced quiet. Why it was this small suffocating space seem to exude with life…just because…just because he was here.

Nero gazed outside his cell. Kyrie had skipped along the corridor last night, her laughter had echoed as she called his name. He didn't answer her because he had fallen asleep inside this man's arms. Nero had buried himself inside another and found refuge…he had permitted himself to touch forbidden rest, slanting closer towards Vergil, ever so quietly…drawn. Everything about this man, including his silence, was charismatic. Nero's eyes relaxed, his claw rose towards the shiny locks, he wanted to touch this identical hair from the moment he had laid eyes on Vergil. He wanted to know if it would feel the same as his, overlooking the indulgent sapphire sparks emanating from his imposing devil arm which was vivaciously matching the rhythms of his upward heartbeats.

The nervous teen hesitated but his body didn't, as his hands clasped the soft silk; Vergil's mane. It was not like his, poles apart, judgement erroneous, for it was one and the same. Nero's hands stirred without his say, delineating the blue devils rising cheekbones. He wanted to recognise what his skin would feel like…warm. The adolescence crept closer, slanting his face above Vergil's lips, breathes gusting beside his skin…tickling, he smiled and stared at his chest to feel the balanced upswing's and plunges. The smile collapsing slowly as he inhaled Vergil's flesh in the midst of his collar, muzzle skimming the arching neck, jogging his memory of a place long forgotten, a place from his suppressed childhood, when he was…truly happy….the woman who haunted his imaginings, her blue eyes and her breath-taking smile. He wanted to be closer to that place, closer to this scent, closer to this man.

Nero hovered onto Vergil's lips and parted his own, he knew he was losing control to his demonic senses…and couldn't stop. He was breathing more than just air. Nero had tasted Vergil's essence inside his starving lungs. The two were submersed in the indigo firestorms from his throbbing appendage. The teen tightened his grip on Vergil's face in stupor, eyes bloodshot as he kissed his lips heatedly, fascinating them between his full ones, tongue widening their entrances gently, treasuring the taste of the warm saliva and unbelievable heat as it dribbled into his. The suppleness of the rims he was devouring made him lose his breathes, he needed…more. Body stinging for something veiled inside this man's soul. A ceaseless spiral, kindling a new flame within, to live, to learn, to…love. A controlling hand clasped his neck. Those intense appreciations were glaring back at him.

Vergil's voice resounded "what are you doing?"

Nero reddened into actuality, flames dispelling. He didn't know what to say or do, staring at Vergil as if he had been caught with his pants down. He couldn't dredge up what he had done. Cold moisture beaded his brow, trying to rationalise his inexcusable actions.

"You, you had something on your cheek…so I tried to…" frowning at his stupid reason.

Vergil's eyes constricted, "why are you lying? Answer the question".

Nero's heart beat faster, he didn't know himself what he was doing. Vergil's gaze was making him panicky and the pressure around his neck was increasing. Vergil's discernments diverted towards his devil arm which was still palpitating rapidly. Nero finally noticed it.

"It's never done that before" he blurted the words. Feeling a little relieved that Vergil had become distracted.

Vergil held his arm and continued to choke him with his other hand. The close proximity between their bodies was making Nero uneasy. Vergil on the other hand was without airs.

"What are you feeling right now?"

Nero coloured and bit his lips; he didn't know what he was feeling. Vergil squeezed and drew him close enough to taste his breathes, eye to eye, noses brushing. The teen looked away unable to meet his probing gaze. Vergil applied more pressure to his neck.

"I won't repeat myself answer the question you…idiot".

Nero felt resentment. He hated being looked down on by this man. It hurt him more than anything else. He pulled Vergil's fingers from about his neck and snarled the first "idiotic" words that came to mind, regretting them straightaway.

"I'm straight, so don't get fucking ahead of yourself...am feeling nothing", rubbing his neck.

Vergil snatched a fistful of his hair and pulled him closer, "I didn't ask about your sexual inclinations. I simply asked what you're feeling."

It was as if this man's gaze could see through him. Nero tried to pull away but Vergil gripped his hair solider, fixing him in place. Nero searched for an answer that never came. Why did this man stir a silent storm of strange emotions within him?

Vergil discussed, "I have come to a decision. We're leaving this prison together and you have one week to get your trigger under control".

Nero's eyes widened in disbelief, "you're crazy, and I'm in here for fucking life".

Vergil's jaw clenched, Nero could tell he was losing patience with him.

"These human rules and institutions are not made for us. You are only here by your own free-will".

Nero stared mute. The words were true. He knew he could break free and leave this place behind. After all, he was the one who had confessed to his crimes and handed himself in. Kyrie was the real reason he was here. Didn't he want unending suffering?

Vergil released and stood in one agile move, washing his face, "I will train you". He revolved to assess.

"The choice is yours if you wish to leave with us, either way, I and Dante will be leaving in seven days".

Nero was still sitting on the floor where Vergil had left him. He brushed his hair down and inspected his devil arm closely. Vergil must have picked up his emotions last night. This man was showing him empathy and was taking him under his wings. Nero was being accepted for what he was. It was what he had wanted all along. He stroked his lips insentient and spoke the words quietly.

"How did you save me last night?"

Vergil delivered, "I drained my blood…inside your devil arm".

Nero felt his chest squeeze. This man had saved him again and even shared his demonic blood. He was indebted to him. No one had ever shown him compassion since Kyrie. All his life he had been tossed around like garbage. He didn't know how to react. The teen had never imagined he would be accepted so easily, even after Vergil had seen the devastation and blackness that lay inside his heart. Nero was at odds with himself.

"Why would you want me?" He had to know the answer to this question. Why would anyone want a killer like him by their side? He was turmoil; a wild-fire that would only spread, burn, and kill everything in its trail, a tool of wreckage and waste.

Vergil stepped closer, "your power is unique and would be an advantage for the work we undertake, killing demons. It would be a pity to kill you".

Vergil sustained, "if the legend is true about you. You are destined to destroy this world, in which case, I rather train you here for the next seven days." He swiped his dripping face, "I find you rather…curious for my father Sparda had…" discontinuing.

Nero noticed Vergil was reluctant to talk about his father? He didn't seem like the type who would open up to others easily or even tolerate them. Was he the exemption? Even Dante had accepted him. Nero could escape this prison, but how could he escape the killing limb which was still attached to his human body. The thought of leaving this place, with them, was just a distant dream. He didn't deserve a second chance. He didn't deserve to leave his ruins. He didn't want to put anyone else in danger.

"No" his final reply, "I can't leave".

Vergil was noiseless. Nero couldn't pick up his emotions. Just feel his own heart breaking. He could never accept his devil side, his demonic blood, or risk anymore lives by leaving this cage. What if he ended up killing the two of them the way he had killed Kyrie. The thought left him dazed.

Vergil spoke, "you wish to die here?"

Nero replied, "I deserve to die here".

Vergil dried his hands over his prison uniform, "it is your choice" ending the conversation curtly.

Nero stood; his pants were covered in body fluid from last night's ordeal. This place was his personal hell and he would die here. It wasn't the reason his eyes were beginning to sting. He would never see this man's face after seven days. The knowledge had left him crushed. Vergil's scent would disappear from this cell and so would his presence. He would lose him. The same way he lost everyone else close to his heart. He had been cursed from the day he was born, heading towards the sink and splashing his face. Nero was starting to cry and he didn't want Vergil to see how weak and pitiful he really was. Trying to clean his prison uniform with water and giving up, clearing his heavy throat.

"Before you leave will you...still help me control my trigger?"

Nero knew he could never control his trigger but it was an excuse to stay closer to Vergil. In these seven days, he wanted to learn more about him. He had come to admire him, feeling his concentrated stare over his spine, "please", he begged. He didn't want the elder to refuse his request.

Vergil's voice cut through the air, "I will teach you, whether you choose to learn is another matter". He paused, "just remember, if you try to escape after we have left. I will personally hunt you down and kill you".

Nero smirked, "don't worry, I won't escape. I got nowhere left to...run".

They heard the garish beeper and the doors of the cells flew open. Vergil stepped outside and Nero followed behind. There was hushed talk and laughter as the other convicts stood outside, one by one. They were still avoiding eye contact with the two of them as per Akira's aforementioned guidelines. Robertson was marching down the middle of the strip when he noticed Nero. He came and stood in front of him, staggered. Nero met his stare defiantly. This asshole had nearly killed him last night with his cowardly tactics but the look of surprise on his face made him grin.

Robertson belittled, "you stink of piss and look like you just crawled out of the gutter".

He took the baton from his belt and tapped the side of Nero's cheek, "despite that you got that shit eating grin on your face".

Nero tilted his head, "fuck you".

The warden assured, "don't worry, you and I are going to be intimate each night. You're going nowhere” lowers the stick to tap his groin.

"Looks like I will need to improvise on your punishment, heard you cried like a little bitch when they...raped you".

He smiled, "I would like to see what your face looks like when you get fucked again".

Nero met his stare. That foul scar on Robertson's face always drew him in. It was freshly cut by Akira. Nero spat on it. Robertson closed his eyes, his face reddened with indignation, wiping the spittle to find Vergil standing in front of him. Their eyes met and he recognised this twin. It was the one Akira had become infatuated with. The sight of this man made his blood boil. Robertson couldn't contravene Akira's remits and lay a finger on him, speculating how long he could follow this specific order.

Vergil poked fun, "you are that demons…pet".

Robertson's stare faltered and he stepped away from Vergil who gripped the baton holding him in place.

"What's wrong? You seemed rather talkative a few moments ago?"

The aggravated warden tried to snatch the baton from his grip but the man before him held power.

Vergil alerted, "touch him again and I will dismember you…little pet".

Robertson glowered as Vergil freed the baton and stepped back. Nero had heard his words and didn't know how to thank him. Perchance he didn't have to. Vergil could read him.

The livid warden yelled "get these fuckers in the showers!"

A different warden nod, "you heard the man, move out ladies" the prisoners formed a line tamely.

Nero was grateful they would get a change of clothing, staring at his filthy outfit, pondering how Vergil had stayed so close to him…he stunk of blood. Vergil was walking a few steps in front and Nero couldn't take his eyes away from his figure. He didn't even notice when they had entered the large shower rooms with white tiles and a smudged concrete floor. There were no curtains or cubicles. Lines of naked and tattooed bodies were far and wide. They were all handed a bar of inexpensive white soap.

Vergil stripped and flung his clothes in a large trolley which was being carted by two prisoners on laundry duty and collections. Three guards were patrolling the area. The floor was mucky, stained brown and littered with hair, grime, and unidentifiable body fluids. He walked towards the adjacent wall. The other convicts couldn't keep their eyes away from the two devils. They had textbook physiques. The silent youth came and stood beside the elder, covering his arm out of habit. He hated seeing the sight of it against his human skin. The two stood side by side quietly cleansing.

Vergil started to wash his body. The feel of the warm water felt virtuous. He was fatigued, having drained his blood, all night, to no determination. The hybrid was continuing suicidal and refusing to leave. The teen's emotions were becoming extremely difficult to deliver and comprehend. Vergil hadn't anticipated Nero refusing his help. Recalling the instant he had awoken to find the hyrbid watching him. The elder had caught the look in his eyes. Was it not one of love? If so what 'kind' of love could this be? They were both men…completely thrown, eyeing the problematic loner taking a bath beside him with enduring suspicions. Why would one cry for help and then decline it? The blue devil heaved a sigh and scrubbed his chest. He was truly forlorn when it came to understanding human dispositions. Vergil came to a stand-still as acquainted arms wrapped his stripped stomach. It was the first time his brother had caught him off guard. He hadn't perceived his approaching footprints or picked up his trail.

"Dante", he whispered.

The whole place fell into utter silence. The other cons had stopped talking, some of them dropping their soaps. The sight of the intimate twins left them dumbstruck. There was something strangely riveting about their familiarity and closeness. Nero stood shocked. He hadn't even noticed the old man who was clinging to Vergil. The spectacle left him unsettled. Devil arm reigniting its throb, fists tightly clenched.

Dante kissed Vergil's neck, "I missed you Verge" clasping.

Vergil automatically pressed into his figure, diminishing the gaps between their illustrious bodies. Dante tightened his hold in retort, fingers circling his umbilicus and Vergil knew something was wrong, before the warm tears smeared his shoulder where his twins crown was lowered. These tears could never go unnoticed by him. The elder tilted his head in revelation but Dante held him firmly in place. His arms could always match his own strength. His brother continued to cry silently. Vergil rested his hand over his, "brother?" The word had left his lips in distress. Dante could always make him lose all self-control.

The hunter buried his face into his tresses, lips hidden behind his ear, "do you know Verge...I saw you kill Vincent in the forest...I...I followed you everywhere to be closer to you" a shudder in each say. Dante's body tense against his, "I followed your footsteps in the snow...I saw the blood, the look in your eyes...I saw you".

Vergil's countenance faltered. It was factual. He had killed their beloved family pet. A part of him knew his mother had also known about what he had done. It had been a meek plan from the start. Vergil had simply killed the dog to see what he would feel...nothing. Monsters like he were hard-hearted. Dante however had mourned the animal's loss for many, many, months, all this time he had pretend to believe the dog had run away and had never confronted him.

Vergil had no rejoinder, repulsed by his past actions. To harm one weaker then you, was spineless. He had many regrets which he hoped he could make up for. Vergil wanted to redeem himself in the eyes of the one he loved. So why couldn't he find the courage to turn and face him, gazing down towards his front. Dante's fingertips were digging into his vulnerable and exposed flesh, staring at the bruises as his blood vessels broke beneath his hurting traces. He subdued his healing blood so these inscriptions wouldn't fade; he wished to keep them, to garb them. Dante seemed to overhear him, his brother's hand slid over the edges and crests of his abdominal, drawing his chest, ascending along his statuesque collarbones and wrapping his neck, climbing higher to delineate his lips.

Dante wavered, "did you hate me Verge? Did you want me…dead?"

The question had never come up before, not even the day he had pointed Yamato at his brother's neck. To hear it…like this…was utterly devastating. Vergil felt fear for the first time. His sibling had every right to abandon him, his brothers eyes had always seen him for what he was. All the years of cold neglect had finally caught up to him. Vergil couldn't bury his bitter past, without Dante, he had no future. Reminiscing all the times his brother had stood outside his door silently when their father had vanished from their lives.

Vergil had deliberately sealed his entrance, knowing, his brother needed him the most. Dante's mute cries in the dark of the night had never stirred anything in his soul. Now as these tears fell onto his skin he felt vile and wretched. Vergil had savagely tarnished his sibling's remarkable heart, whose eyes had never held anything but love and longing to be closer to him. Years of desertion had been inadvertent on his part yet he truly wondered if he had ever deserved his brother's forgiveness. How can Dante cling to him bearing his heart and soul, to him, the person who had so carelessly inflicted these scars?

Vergil lowered his eyes to the concrete floor and remembered the day he had stood in the frozen snow lands. It had come to remind him of his own heart. He was the cold of the winter, unrelenting, and unforgiving, wasteland. Dante's unbearable warmth was scorching his skin. It was too much to take and he couldn't break free, torn eyes unbridled droplets of repentance. They were the only release from the pain he was sensing. They were sanction and he would revere them as they descended from his perceptions. Warm and delicate, just like the one thoughtlessly holding him. How could someone like him covey his feelings to one so precious?

Vergil collected, "I have only ever envied you. I have wondered why I hadn't turned out like you". He felt Dante lift his head slightly, he was still crying.

Vergil beseeched, "...I have never deserved your love. I have never been good enough".

It was the truth and he wanted his sibling to hear it. He had always wondered why his brother had never left his side.

Dante rained loving kisses along his shoulder and towards the back of his neck, both hands gently stroking the skin that had rapture under his touches.

"I never said it before...not even the day mom died...but I want you to know Verge..." uttered breathless.

Vergil opened his eyes. He placed one hand on the wall to steady himself, "as?"

Dante gripped him possessively into his body, his voice scarcely a murmur, "I would die without you by my side and I...love you".

The water continued to plunge down their indistinguishable bodies as Dante's fingertips accustomed his mane. Vergil curved his body to face his mirror, close enough to let him see his one and only weakness. He gripped Dante's right hand spreading it over his chest.

"I have never been one for words", cupping Dante's neck and pulling him closer, "my heart, beats faster...only for you...never forget it".

Dante propped his brow against Vergil's and cupped his face. He was gazing into the wild oceans that he had come to fear and worship. He could see himself inside them. His brother was gazing back at him, with love, and couldn't look away. He had waited a lifetime for these eyes to see him. He kissed Vergil's upper lips.

"That's why…I will never stop following you…not even into hell" devout.

Dante looked completely defenceless. Vergil knew something had happened to him. He had never seen his brother so frail, except the day their mother had passed away. The hunter's eyes fell on Nero who was quietly watching the two with troubled eyes. His arm was blooming kindly with the same blue light that had soothed the red devil. Dante let go of Vergil gradually. The sight of the kid was burning his skin. He was fighting the tears which were trying to force their way back to his eyes.

Dante's face held grief, "hey, kid...do you remember your mom?"

Nero wasn't listening. He was still watching the sparks from his devil arm. His hair clung to his cheeks, lips still bruised. Dante stepped closer but Nero stepped away rapidly. He looked disturbed. Dante wanted to embrace the kid but it was too painful and raw, terrified, he would be plunged back to watch their mothers die. He wasn't strong enough to see it again, remembering Leon, he had been wrong about him. Dante felt his tears deteriorating. Nero didn't seem to remember the nightmare and Leon wasn't here. Was he losing his mind?

Vergil ushered, "brother"?

Dante stared vacantly at him, "the kid…he..." numb.

Vergil heaved him into his chest, kissing his forehead, "you have nothing to fear".

Dante closed his eyes, wrapping his waist. He clung to Vergil the same way he had the night his mother had passed away. He wasn't alone in the world his brother would always remain by his side. There was no distance between them, there never had been. They had always been one.

The prisoners watched in peculiar silence and peace.

Nero walked away. A warden stopped him abruptly, "you're on kitchen duty" he shoved new clothes into his hands. "Wait for your two friends, they will be joining you".

Nero watched the two from a distance. He didn't know why but he felt pure jealousy at the sight of their closeness. What Vergil had said and the way he held Dante had made him feel a new emptiness. They were brothers yet...It wouldn't matter, after seven days he knew he would never see them again. A hand curled his neck. It was his bloodied devil, lips brushing his cheek.

"We only have each other...you can never be close to anyone else, remember your cursed", the incurable reminder.

Nero shut his eyes in rejection. He could still see Vergil's image behind his closed eyelids and wondered what it would be like to be embraced by him. How it would feel to have his hand rest against his own cheek, for those cold eyes to soften as they fell on his face, to have a family. Is that what he was feeling? He opened his eyes, Vergil was still holding Dante. His emotions were confusing him. What did he want from this man?

The red devil whispered amid his chest "you're going soft on me" he pestered his older brother who was gazing back at him with unease.

Vergil announced "we are leaving this place in seven days".

Dante glanced, "what about the kid?"

They both looked at him at the same time. Nero looked away and started to get changed. Dante noticed the fresh bruises on his body and face. The sight of the kid filled him with grief. The kid would die here if they left him behind and he would never let that happen. Nero belonged with them.

Vergil started to walk out, "he wants to stay here".

Dante clasped his elbow, "make him change his mind" urgently.

Vergil arched a crest, "what makes you think I can change his mind?"

Dante reminded "kid likes you, it's obvious".

Vergil dissuaded, "I only came here because he...reminded me of...you", heading towards a tall warden who handed him new clothes.

Nero's eyes fell on Vergil's stomach and neck where Dante's fingerprints were acutely engrained. The sight of them was making his heart ache. He looked away as the old man came and stood beside him.

The warden waited patiently for them to get changed, "the three of you follow me" he spoke on his speaker-mic and they made their way composed.

Dante gripped Nero's hand as he strode in front, "kid, do you remember the dream last night?"

The troubled teen detached his hand, "I didn't dream last night, had the shit beaten out of me".

He avoided Dante's gaze, on edge. The sight of the old man was pissing him off.

The confused hunter stopped when he caught Nero's angry stare. He would have to find Leon. He didn't even know if he quit the job after his ordeal. Could it be…it had all been just a fucked-up dream?

Vergil gripped his hand and he joined his brother's brisk walk. "Tell me everything you saw?"

Dante didn't know where to begin, including Leon and his weirder hair. He gazed at his brother's intelligent face and knew he had no choice. Only Vergil would be able to understand what was happening to them. He spoke in a hushed tone and begun the saga from when he had found Leon. He could recall every vivid detail. Vergil listened quietly without interrupting. Nero maintained his aloofness as they walked through the comprehensively safeguarded barricades towards the kitchenette.

Dante was desperate for an answer, "what do you think"?

Vergil examined his hands, "he's cleansing your soul".

Dante gawked "a fucked up dream doesn't equate to curing".

Vergil met his stare, "the wounds on your body were healed by his flames. The scars that cannot be reached on the body, the ones etched in your heart and soul, he is healing those inside these dreams."

Dante wasn't convinced, "his mother was burned, I saw our mom die, his father's death..."

Vergil summarised, "but in the end, the three of you felt complete…didn't you?"

Dante thought about the moment they had stood together in a circle. It had been a perfect moment of peace and tranquillity, the place where they had been standing had felt…blessed. He had never felt anything like it. He had faced his darkest fears with Leon and Nero beside him. In the aftermath, he had told Vergil exactly how he felt about him. He had never found the courage before.

Dante gazed intently, "why weren't you their Verge?"

Vergil revealed, "I don't have any scars that need healing. I didn't lose you that day".

Dante stopped walking, trying to understand the gravity of his words. Vergil wrapped his wrist and gently tugged. The hunter understood what had been left unspoken. Vergil had never loved anyone else more than him.

The three entered the kitchen. The warden who had accompanied them locked the doors. Their eyes fell in unison on the discomforting sight that waited. Akira was sitting on a chair tugging the ends of his long hair with a look of extreme boredom. In front of him were four naked convicts, bound and gagged. Akira clapped his hands happily and stood. The inmates muffled cries and the sound of three wardens cocking their semi-automatic machine guns resonated through the small room. He stooped his head before Vergil and unfavourably checked Dante and Nero.

"Well aren't you three the sight for sore eyes!"


	13. The Menu

Akira whinged, "am...starving".

Squatting beside one of the detained prisoners, a young man in his early twenties, head shaved, glittering with perspiration. He tried to move away when Akira gripped his neck.

"His name is...tee-hee, oops, I don't remember but he is on death row scheduled to die by lethal injection. The same goes for those three losers.”

Ogling Vergil, "sadly it's your fault they a here today, my prince".

Dante's laughter boomed, "I told you fugly, you're not his type", highly amused, "you trying to win him over through his stomach, not going to work" boastful.

Akira reared, stepping forward and toppling the jittery con that collided, face first, with the unforgiving ground. Akira propped an elbow on Dante's shoulder and leaned into his face seductively.

"The wolf, the fox, and the jackal will prepare a special meal for me. Licking the tip of the hunter's nose, "it's my Birthday".

Akira gazed at Vergil who gave no reaction. Nero was still staring at the quivering captives.

Dante cleaned his nose, "I presume Verge must be the wolf, the kid must be the fox and I must be the jackal". He relaxed his hand under his chin and beheld Akira head to toe, "you haven't given yourself a pet name, how about wild buffalo…no wait the Nile crocodile, I like that one better ", flattering.

Akira blushed and slipped both arms about his neck, inclining towards his ear and whispering his discoveries with a delightful grin. Dante's face flushed with ferocity. Nero couldn't look away he had never seen the old man so angry.

Vergil contrived meaninglessness. He knew the demon was testing him for a reaction. His feelings for Dante would never surface. Yet the contact he had just made on his brother's skin would be paid with full interest. His eyes fell on the wardens who looked overwrought.

Dante gripped Akira's jowl and tilted his face away from Vergil, "you really don't get it do you"?

“You can't have him", fierce.

Akira groomed his boisterous tresses, "I haven't been feeding sexually. Thanks to your brother over there I can't get a hard-on and consequently will need to consume flesh, as the crow flies or depart this life. I will only eat, if he prepares my food, with his lovely hands" challenging.

Vergil measured, "is that all you want?"

Akira hungered, "yes my love, these men are destined for death, if you think about it we are merely performing our public duties as responsible citizens" mitigating torture with a hearty beam.

Vergil stepped in front of the shrinking men. Their stifled screams escalating at the sight of the lofty twin who stood over them threateningly. Vergil motioned with one hand and four azure blades winged behind his figure, their shrill steel gathering the light from the weakly lit chamber. Nero's eyes widened, he had never seen power like this. It was electric, the hair on his forearm standing. Dante made a move towards Vergil when Akira tightened his grip round his hair.

"The wolf is mine and you should know he can never truly be...controlled".

Dante clenched his teeth, Akira tightened his hold. "I will show you what he is capable of and undo all your hard work".

Dante shoved him back and stepped in front of Vergil, "Verge this thing is fucking with you…let him starve".

Vergil signalled to his rapiers which aligned behind each man's neck. They started to cry.

"Verge" he pleaded.

The younger man had managed to slide the rag from his mouth and lifted his body off the floor. "Please don't…please don't kill me" he cried, body shuddering with fright. "Please, I will do a-anything...and he is lying am not on...d-death row", staring at the wardens who watched on silently.

"Fucking, tell them, you fucking cocksuckers" winded.

Vergil was impassive. Dante stepped nearer and their identical eyes met. Vergil's insensitive stare didn't weaken but his warm fingertips grazed Dante's, the palest of touches but it was enough to assure his heart. His older brother had already assessed the situation and knew what had to be done. There was no alternate. Dante stared at the floor as the victims grunt. The ruthless swords had found their puny marks. The men's bodies slumped to the floor in unanimity. Dante could see the blood slowly trailing the floor and covering his prison shoes, tinting them.

Akira applauded, crouching to straddle the younger man's carcass, sniffing and biting into his jugular savagely, extricating a chunk of his raw flesh. Nero looked away, swayed by nausea. They could all hear the sounds of chomping, glugging and unfitting moans as Akira begun to annihilate the dead man's flesh.

Vergil observed remotely. The smell of gore satisfying the room, it was intoxicating and had always appeased his soul. How could he deny he had missed the sweet scent of blood? It didn't matter to him whether the blood belonged to a human or demon. It was all the same. Nevertheless, the method he had used today was against all his moral codes. These men had been sitting ducks and thus there was no thrill in their slaughter. He favoured a fair fight…his adversary had to be evenly matched. Evaluating Akira, knowing the demon would never be a worthy enough opponent. Even so, he would meet his death by Mato's chimes. The demon had sealed its grisly fate.

Akira's hair, face, and neck were enclosed in the man's flesh and blood, "thank you" the satisfied belch. He licked his fingers slowly, "I want you to cut their bodies and cook them for me, we already shaved them for you, the last thing I want is hair in my stew", pulling a face.

Vergil grew intolerant, "isn't this enough for you?"

Akira ripped out the man's heart, "I'm not a barbarian Vergil. I would like to eat properly and share my food with others, like a human being" pooh-poohing. He stood and strolled towards Nero who was clutching his stomach.

Akira patted his clean mane, crusting it pink, "little foxy is quiet, which reminds me…you are still working for me aren't you?"

Nero answered by giving him his middle finger. Akira grinned and sucked it voraciously. The youth was revolted by the connection, the sight and smell of the demon making him woozy, vomiting.

Akira slapped his back, "poor fox, we will only do this once a week unless the wolf over there has sex with me", going red in the face…"sex with me" bashfully.

Dante smiled, "if you really want to get laid so badly, am sure you can find someone else even willing to do an ugly crocodile like you".

Akira munched the heart, "sorry, I'm in love with your brother and am a one-man-man".

Vergil rejected, "I refuse your offer and we won't be cooking these men for you".

Akira flung the heart. One of the wardens dodged the oncoming organ and headed outside to collect four more supplementary offerings. The men's eyes widened in terror at the blood-spattered scene, scuffling. The two assisting wardens jagged their guns and the newest prisoners went down compliantly on their wobbly knees.

Akira drowsed, "If you don't cook the already slain men, I will keep piling on their bodies. Choice is yours, nobody will miss these failures".

Dante watched the four men cowering together. Vergil had killed the first four out of mercy. He knew what the demon was capable of doing to them. It would have eaten them alive. Vergil was still protecting him and had soiled his own hands. Nero was expressionlessly staring at the blood. Dante was worried about the kid's current mental state. They couldn't afford to leave him alone.

Vergil settled, "we will cook the four dead".

Akira licked the ends of his bloodied hair, "you would rather hack these human bodies, cook them and feed them to the other unsuspecting prisoners than have sex with me...once?" He held up one finger for emphasis.

Vergil arched an elegant brow in comeback, "yes" the terse reply.

Akira coughed in scepticism, "how cruel, you really are a heart-breaker", staring at Dante, "shouldn't you try to change his mind nor do you prefer to hack these poor fellows all in the name of protecting your brother's chastity?"

Dante chuckled loudly, "I told you, you can't have him". He picked up a knife off the counter and touched the tip with his thumb testing the blade.

Nero streaked his lips, gazing at the bodies horrified by what lay ahead, turning away.

Akira cleaned his nails of the man's tissue and skins, "my sweet fox you don't have to be a part of this, I need to speak with you...privately" fastening Nero's devil arm with his. "Everything you need to get cooking is right here and the wardens will provide assistance should you need it in my absence".

Akira tried over "of course, the offer is still open anytime my love".

The guards dragged away the other bunching inmates. Vergil waved with one hand and several spectre blades soared above the dead men. Dante stared at Nero who was being led away by Akira. He stepped forward but Vergil held him back. Dante gripped the knife and sliced his skin where the demon had licked him.

"Verge, I really hope you plan on killing that fucking thing before we leave?"

Vergil's eyes pulsed red, "you can't imagine what I have planned for this demon", dissecting the bodies artfully.

Dante recalled Akira's words and surveyed Vergil. He would never let his brother slip away into darkness, not after what they had already been through. Akira wouldn't touch a strand of Vergil's hair. He would make fucking sure of it…eyes burning red as he sliced the departed.

Akira glanced at Nero casually, "what's wrong honey?"

Nero averted his eyes. This man repulsed him. Yet it was the perfect opportunity to try to kill him. What did he have to lose? He had nothing to live for.

Akira teased "little fox is in love...isn't he?"

Nero couldn't hide the shockwaves immersing his face making Akira giggle. He had flesh wedged between his teeth. Nero's face turned whitish and Akira rapidly deployed his hand over his mouth to pick his teeth in an effort to clean them. He removed his blood stained top and hurled it on the floor.

"I'm sorry, it's just…I'm trying my hardest to acquire the one I love and it doesn't seem to be working".

Nero didn't know how to respond. This thing was unpredictable but he could feel genuine frustration in his voice.

Akira probed, "Vergil, you like him too…don't you?" Curling an arm around his shoulder, "he is handsome, sexy, and above all hardnosed, every devil's dream".

Nero shoved him off, "why are you telling me this?"

Akira sniggered, "I thought you would understand my feelings since you and I are on the same unrequited love boat. Can't we sail together"?

Nero was maddened, "am nothing like you, fucking freak".

Akira's smile worn, "I said I was really sorry about before and I was hoping you would be up for another small task".

Nero declined "fuck off, am not falling for it this time and I don't give a fuck what happens to me".

Akira paused in thought and nod, "I agree…this time a mere threat won't suffice how about some real reward instead?"

Nero halted as he came towards the next checkpoint. The warden didn't open the gates. He punched the metal bars but the warden flouted.

Akira caught up, "his brother, you don't like him…do you?"

Nero denied, "I don't give a shit about either of them".

Akira snorted, "in that case the task will be even easier. The bodies they are preparing have been infected with my blood".

Nero's heart raced at the comprehension, "what?"

Akira jiggled, "the humans will consume the meat and this time my precious babies will feast inside their host until they are ready to...come out and play".

He tapped his chin, "let's just say, they will be my main weapon to kill the younger one".

Nero's heart sank. This demon was planning on killing Dante. He had refused to hear anything the old man had tried to tell him, wondering why he had been so angry.

Akira tapped the bars, "I want you to finish him if he manages to survive their attack".

Nero refused to hurt Dante, "I'm not doing shit for you".

Akira snuffled his hair, "you want him dead, don't you? I saw the way you looked at him and if you could squeeze your beloved's neck in cold blood than..."

Nero gripped Akira's neck, his mouth distorted in fury. He clutched stiffer when he heard the warden whistle and misstep with his keys. The teen crushed with all his might. Akira cackled louder in reaction. The baton struck the side of his head but he didn't let go. He would kill this demon. Four guards raced to prevent his outburst. Their batons striking his body but he gridlocked the pain. Akira's taunting eyes turned into murky depths of despair. And he puffed into Nero's face. Black smoke hovered out of his cavernous mouth. Nero felt the powder entering his lungs…blacking out.

"Nero", a woman's soft voice whispered into his ear. He tried to open his eyes but he couldn't. It felt like his body was still without feeling, only his mind was wide-awake.

"Nero", he felt her hair dipping into his face.

The youth lifted his human hand and gripped her head, "Ky-rie".

Pink illustrious petals were descending from the heavens in the midst of a timeless breeze. He was entombed by a pillar of snowfall. Where was he? How did he get here?

"Kyrie" he called.

Her hands were removing the snow from his flesh, nurturing his head to rest on her warm lap. Kyrie's kindly hands were sashaying through his hair, comforting. Nero stared upwards for she was beholding an angel in her white dress. He felt a tear leave his eye at the wingless seraph guarding him. This image of her was incised inside his depths. Nero tried to raise his ice-covered figure, staring at his skin as the floating petals settled onto his flesh.

Praying, "keep me with you", he fought to keep consciousness. He didn't want to lose this moment with her.

"Sleep...Nero" her lips and breathes kissing his icy skin.

Nero was afraid of sleep, afraid to wake, afraid to dream. He gazed out across the snow where he could see a young man erected. His hair was the colour of the snowstorm they were caught in. The teen dragged upwards and turned to face Kyrie. She was gone. The teen set upright languidly and plodded towards the mysterious male...had they met before? The other youth was only sixteen, hair sleeked, black coat and jeans covered in snowflakes as he stared blankly at something on the floor…wine-coloured…blood…an animal lay dead and concealed.

Nero whispered "do I...know you?"

The silent adolescent didn't reply. Nero's eyes followed his fingertips, they were drenched red…dripping blood…his human hand reached out to grip these acquainted hands, the touch so aware.

"You're bleeding" he uttered tenderly.

The silent male overlooked him. Nero drew closer, body shivering uncontrollably, the petals still clinging to his dampened skin. Nero would die out here, inside this uninhabitable barren wilderness if he didn't get closer to the heat emitting from the one standing before him. Devil arm animated glowing brighter and brighter with each hesitant step. Nero closed the distance between their bodies. He felt the warm coat resting against his cold skin. Why were the two of them out here…alone? He caught a flash of pink in the snow and knew it was Kyrie; she was busy constructing a snowman, waving at him from afar. Nero wanted to go to her but why couldn't he leave this man's presence?

The say startled him, "you wish to die?"

Nero controlled the tremble in his voice "I...wish..."

He stared at Kyrie when he felt a warm hand resting against his jaw. He closed his eyes to this hint. He knew exactly who this man was. Nero didn't know what he wanted anymore…deadly afraid of his own feelings, unlocking his eyes to find Vergil before him. Kyrie appeared behind him…her white dress carrying in the breeze, just like her hair. Nero couldn't look away from either of them. Kyrie slid her arms around Vergil's waist and slanted her head so he could still see her, reproving.

"You will kill him too...murderer" her coffee eyes holding the bitter reality that he could never quite escape. He had killed her not his devil.

Nero gazed at his hands. They were dripping blood, tears erupting, on his knees, as he observed the raging fires. Hear the cries of men, women, and children. He screamed and shut his ears to drown them out. Why was he born to this miserable existence? Nero had lost something precious to this punishing world and clutched his chest. He could see a lake in the distance the Lilies were the colour of a serene sunset. Nero had buried someone here that he didn't want to remember. If he did, he would set this world on fire.

"I need you" he cried.

"I have always...needed you" the calling.

Nero's devil emerged from the depths of the lake. Denim jacket and jeans soaking wet, blood thirsty eyes lidded…dark figure set beautifully burning. The vision filled Nero with elation, he held out his arms. His devil would never leave his side. He was his only hope, his flame for living. Why had he come to hate him? He wasn't the one that had killed Kyrie. The devil sauntered towards him with ample strides. Nero continued to kneel. The devil leered and cupped his weeping face, hallowed waters dripping from his soaked attire onto his face. Nero regarded with love and awe. His devil was his true strength. He was nothing without him.

He asked, "why do you call me...don't you hate me, brother?"

Nero clutched his hands, "I...I killed her not you" he whispered in agony.

The devil knelt and restored their temples, "say it again" he growled, wet lips pushing against his sending dissipated shivers down his spine.

Nero breathed, "I…killed…her" it was the truth.

The devil kissed his face. A feeling of belonging made his heart beat faster. Opening his mouth in an insatiable desire and longing to have finally found someone who understood him, their hungry tongues clashed, as they kissed each other violently. This was passion. This was frenzy. This was love in all its self-effacing raw beauty. Nero wanted to burn his lover to the ground. So he singed, gripping tightly the only person that knew his tormented heart. Loving arms were coiling his naked and aching body, influential hands yanking his hair to deepen their hungry kiss. Nero froze and gasped for air, wide-eyed, when he recognised who it was he was kissing, "Vergil" the crude awakening. Nero was situated in the confines of his cell...utterly breathless.

Akira stepped in front of the bars, "someone was having a nice dream. Want to tell me who it was making you moan like a little slut".

Nero's heart sank there was no escape from this demon, "piss off" tired.

Akira glanced at his face dreamily "sorry, I may have hit you harder than intended with my special powers but you needed a moment of clarity".

Nero sat up slowly. His eyes fell on the top bunk, Vergil was absent.

Akira was watching his every move, "the twins are still stuck in the kitchen you only blacked out for a few minutes".

Nero stroked his hair, it was coated in dry blood, "just…leave me...alone" he was mentally and physically exhausted. His hands were trembling uncontrollably, his body didn't feel right and it wasn't just from the latest beatings.

Akira leaned into the bars, "as I was saying earlier, my little pets will take care of our jackal problem. You would only provide backup in case he makes it out alive when we corner him". He licked the bars, "I know you desire Vergil too, those eyes of his don't seem to notice anyone else around him. They are constantly fixed on his other half…am jealous of that Jackal".

Nero stood, "what did you say to piss him off in the kitchen?"

He was curious he had never seen the old man so angry?

Akira stopped mid-lick, "I told him...what he is afraid to admit to himself".

Nero wondered downcast "what's that"?

Akira continued to lick the bar and batted his eyelashes, "I will tell you when he dies. For now I would recommend you avoid snacking on the twins cooking, although it's rather tempting".

Nero stared suspiciously, "the other prisoners...won't they all be infected?"

Akira scratched his bare chest, "everything is fair in love and war; it'll be more fun if everyone joins our party. Don't you think little fox?" Akira smelled his underarms and frowned.

"I think I need a shower…oh before I forget, it will take exactly six days for my hatchlings to consume the humans and reach puberty, giving you enough time to gain the younger ones trust and explore his weakness".

Akira slid his pants off. Nero turned away, "come now we didn't even finish when things were getting good between us. I mean neither of us came…Vergil sure is rude".

Nero controlled his boiling temper, "let me join the two" he spoke quietly. He would play along with the demon and warn the twins.

Akira stroked himself, intelligent eyes focused on Nero, "of course, you have free reign. The guards have my orders, do as you please sexy fox" he winked and walked away.

Nero glared and tested the doors which were unbelievably unlocked. He hesitated but took the opportunity to head back towards the kitchen; stroking his lips…he could still taste Vergil's tongue. Nero stopped dead in his tracks. What the hell was he thinking? His eyes widened in worry. He could still feel Vergil's touches…the snow…and…frightened. Nero turned around and paced back towards his cell. Vergil could pick up his emotions and there was no way he wanted him to find out about his fucked up feelings for him. Even the old man could read him, anxious, lying down on the lower bunk. Nero was losing himself. His body arose in heated aches and urges. He gripped the bed sheet to calm his escalating emotions, brows lined, cheeks red, his hands were trying to reach his hardened and throbbing member. It was hurting him not to find any release and he was excruciatingly hard. Nero bit his scratchy lips and rubbed his face in impatience, "no" he turned over, fighting his bodily compulsions which were flooding over.

Vergil's face as Dante had held him inside his arms broke all his composure. The way he had leaned back into his touches as the two stood stark-naked. The way Dante had stroked his lips...kissed his neck...caressed his body. Nero bit into his knuckle in anger and resentment. It had hurt him to witness their unbreakable bond...their closeness...their love. He remembered the bruises on Vergil's pale skin…he had hated the sight of them because Dante had made them. Why did the old man have the right to be so close to the person he…loved? Sitting up abruptly he growled.

"To touch your brother like that, what the fuck is wrong with him", enraged.

Nero was out of breath; he gripped the bed and gazed up at the top bunk. Vergil had slept in it, he didn't falter, flying on top towards his alluring scent. It was calming. The haunted teen lay down and closed his eyes, searching for rest which he had found inside this man's arms. Nero lowered his pants and gripped his member inside his clawed hand. He curled up into a foetal position and started to stroke himself. It was too late to stop, hugging the pillow into his body. Nero groaned out loud, his voice echoing as he recalled the dream, the suppleness of Vergil's lips, his stare, and those hands that had cradled him, adrenaline and blood gushing as he stroked harder and faster, hips thrusting and propelling. The teen growled and huffed as he felt his devil arm catching fire, yet he controlled these flames so the bed wouldn't burn. It contained the man's trail that he had thoughtlessly fallen in love with.

Nero's tears dwindled from his eyesight. It was the second time he had ever been in love and he had never imagined it would be with another man. These feelings for Vergil were overwhelming his soul and shattering him. He knew his mental state must be the cause of his deprivation and these emotions would always remain one-sided. Vergil would never return his feelings. He arched his back and tilted his head rearwards, body sticky with dampness, swinging in ecstasy. Heart and mind at war. "Vergil" the forbidden name escaped his parted lips as his body rocked amid short-lived pleasure, plunging his fingertips with his hands exertions. The teen felt haunting guilt, sliding his pants into place so the spurting fluids didn't dirty the bed of the one he had called, burying his face in humiliation, finally coming to his senses.

"What the hell is wrong with me?"

He watched the crimson coloured flames disappearing inside his devil arm. It was the first time he had managed to control them and he had never imagined it would be like this. He felt pathetic and had reached a new low, falling further in his own eyes and despair. Laughter escaped his lips and echoed through the quiet cell, he couldn't contain it. He was falling to pieces and wasn't strong enough to pull himself together. Nero closed his eyes and could see Kyrie. Over the years he had come to fear her eyes. They had only held empathy for him because he was a reflection of her. They were two lonely people that had never found love in each other's company. How long could he run away from this simple truth? That he was the one who had ended up abandoning her because her presence was causing him to feel unhappiness.

Remaining by her side had been nothing but heartache, knowing one day he would eventually lose her to someone else. He had left her heartbroken inside that park, she had cried out to him not to leave her behind. A part of him had wanted to turn back but he had made the choice to let her go. The loneliness that came with loving someone he knew he could never keep was giving him the courage to finally part ways and break free from this vicious cycle of pain and hurt.

Kyrie had stood their dumbfounded. Nero had never imagined she would wait in that same spot for his return. The adolescence had regretted his selfish decision instantaneously. He had left her alone and had failed to keep his promise to remain by her side. By the time he had made it back it was already too late. The three drunken men had torn her to pieces. Kyrie lay bleeding. Nero had killed them with his own bare hands. The smell of their blood had awakened his devil side but he had been in his sanities when he had murdered them in cold blood. He had lifted her broken body inside his arms, her white dress torn and bloodied. Kyrie's eyes had opened slowly and she had smiled at him.

"I knew you would come back...for me".

Her words had caused him torment his bloody tears had fallen onto her skin and to his horror had burned her flesh. She had whimpered in her pain but that smile never left her lips. Nero tried to let her go but she held on to him with all her strength.

"Don't leave me…" tears were running.

Nero had kissed them gently from her skin and could still taste them on his lips. "I failed you" he replied softly.

Lifting her hand against his cheek, he had kissed her palm. Kyrie had fallen asleep. He was too afraid to check her pulse. All he could do was hug her into his chest to hide her from the world. She was the most precious person to him and he had always feared this world would take her away. But he wouldn't allow it; he would keep her forever inside his arms, she would be safe here. Nero stroked her hair gently and slid the ribbon from her hair…he had always liked it open. He had never kissed these beautiful lips, but this time he leaned in and kissed her with love that he had nurtured over the years, only for her, sealed inside this one parting kiss.

"I…love…y-you…"

He never ended the words, blue flames had shot out of his devil arm, and he had no control over them. Something had triggered their power, a memory of someone he had buried and couldn't remember. They had set her body alight. He had watched her burn inside his arms, they hadn't healed her. He had burned her alive. Kyrie's blood was on his hands, he was her true killer and he would take this blame to his grave. No matter how many nightmares he had of that one night, no matter how many different ways he watched her die, in the end he was the real culprit. Blaming his devil had always been his minds way of keeping him sane, an inbuilt survival mechanism to ease the tempest of having lost someone he couldn't breathe without. His conscious and unconscious mind always conflicted between disjointed memories of a broken human being. That's all he was…broken.

Nero cleaned his hands against his skin and slid the blanket over his tired body. The fragrance growing stronger, all around him, he could smell Vergil's skin. It reminded him of place close to his heart. He closed his eyes to it and let it pass over him, his pain fading into nothingness. Vergil's fingertips grazed his cheek and Nero clutched his hand tightly inside his own. Nero knew he was simply dreaming but he didn't want to let this hand go. He tilted his face and placed a kiss tenderly inside his palm. It was the hand that would end his suffering, pain and joy, fear and hope, life and death resting inside these warm fingertips.

Akira made his way down the corridor and headed into the vacant showers. He couldn't stop beaming. The next six days would be the best of his life, reviewing remnants of the black dust he had used on Nero. It had been the necessary spice to add greater flavour to the tasty dish he was concocting, mouth drooling at the tantalising prospects as everything would come together in one big scrumptious bite. Akira knew love was madness and the logical road to utter chaos. Nero just needed a little push and he had been more than happy to provide a shove. He whistled loudly and started to wash his body knowing the younger twin would meet his demise at the hands of his little fire-starter.

Akira grinned, "my poor fox, let's see how long it takes for you to drown in lust...either way it'll be fun to watch you chasing after that big-bad-wolf".


	14. The Outsider

“Dante" he whispered and turned over in bed.

Leon unfastened his eyes gradually. The unchanged dream again but this time he knew it was physical, streaking his tears, he checked the time. It was almost 12:30 p.m. His shift would start at 5 for the rest of the week, ascertaining a bright green note that had been left on his bedside desk, feeling guilt that he had dozed off while Claire and Chris were still over. Leon read and rung, inattentively staring at his reflection in the opposing cabinet, depressed. The imported silvery threads had taken the liberty to spread their territory; his entire fringe was now prominently…all white…great, reviewing his skin which had mended completely. Chris would notice these two details for sure. In spite of all this, all he could think about was the impressive devil he had seen.

"Black…wings" the awestruck recall.

He placed one moping hand over his face, "get a freaking grip, you got bigger things to worry about".

Chris had clocked into work for 6 a.m. Claire had been dropped off their mother's house and her flight was booked for this evening. He had literally hurled Leon's sorry ass to bed but not before taking a peek at his laptop. Chris had found pictures of three men with impeaching white hair. It wasn't coincidence. The odd colour of their mops seemed to be a clue to Leon's recent state. He had already read their records. What had caught his courtesy was that the twins didn't seem to exist anywhere else apart from the documents contained by the arresting law enforcement agency. It wasn't uncommon for people to change their birth names and thus obliterate preceding identities. Mobile pulsating on his chaotic desk and he knew who it was.

Leon bestowed, "the answer is no Chris, am taking the bus".

Chris leaned back in his chair and opened a file on Nero "too bad, I'm dropping you off today. I got an errand at the jail".

Leon tugged his white hair "Chris you don't need to...really, I can manage".

Chris picked out Nero's mug shot "since we are both heading that way, it makes sense to go together".

Leon started to chew his finger in tension. He glanced at his laptop. It had been moved, Chris must have checked his last search. He knew he didn't have anything to worry about but he didn't want him to enter that prison. His best friend was stubborn and wouldn't stop until he had cleared his own suspicions. It was like hitting his head on a brick wall. He had no choice but to agree. Leon stared at his uniform still lying on the floor.

"Fine, I will see you for 3:30".

Chris sited the files on his desk, "good to hear, I will grab lunch on the way, Claire's orders, you're getting skinny".

Leon slipped out of bed, "don't be late" the nifty gibe, the guy kept to time like his life depended on it.

Chris puckered and gazed up to find his partner heading his way, "see you than".

Jill was wearing a pretty pink sleeveless blouse and grey pencil skirt. A pair of black heels heightening her long legs, unlike his desk he could see she didn't have anything on hers, it was neat and tidy. Her brown hair tied in a neat ponytail, blue eyes probing. 

"Chris the Spencer mansion"?

Chris sighed and adjusted his burgundy colour shirt. "I will take a look into it today…I promise".

It was the first time he had neglected his office duties, all thanks to Leon. Jill smiled and leaned against his desk. He couldn't help his eyes wondering over her gorgeous figure. They had been partners since they joined the B.S.A.A and were a close knit team. It had been a bonus to be paired with a partner who was not only attractive but highly skilled.

Jill was studying his face intently, "everything OK?"

Chris rubbed the back of his neck "I'm fine, Wesker not in the office today?"

Jill browsed his empty desk "still ill from what I heard, am sure he will be in later today".

“The guy is a workaholic, like you" brushing her skirt "you need to clean this desk, looks like a hurricane hit it".

Chris defended, "its co-ordinated mess".

Jill smiled and picked up Nero's picture curiously, "wow, he is quite a looker...a bit young though". Her eyes inquisitively inspected the identical hunks next, "I need to go to jail more often if these are the kind of inmates they have".

Chris clutched the pictures from her hands, "women" he huffed under his breathe.

Jill stood, "you need coffee, you turn into a grumpy old man without it".

Chris couldn't hide his agitation. Something about these men was bothering him and he didn't know what? He felt Jill's hand brush his shoulder and he gazed at her.

"Give me your other files, Wesker wanted that report two days ago and I know you're leaving early today".

Chris rubbed his upper lip. He had totally forgotten about the reports, fumbling with his drawers he handed them over apologetically.

"I owe you Jill", their eyes met. "I promise to take you out, next pay we will try that expensive restaurant you can never book a table for".

Jill laughed, her smile made him pause. She extracted the files from his hands "you're not even good at bribing me but I will take you up on that offer".

Chris watched her admiringly as she headed back towards her desk. By the time he was done finishing his own work it was almost 3:00 p.m., grabbing his black coat, badge and keys, sliding all his personal files inside his drawer and locking it. Chris couldn't wait to inspect the prison, holstering his semi-automatic handgun behind his coat. Jill was busy typing away at her computer screen and Chris couldn't resist the unguarded opportunity, kissing her cheek on the way out and managing to catch the elevator, staring at the green buttons leisurely flashing with each descending floor, indifferent to his plight. The doors opened and he found Wesker standing in front of him, blonde hair sleeked, clad in a pair of black combat pants, boots and a dusky coloured top. The outfit was odd considering they all dressed down when they were working civilian hours in the office.

Wesker smiled "Chriiisss, fancy bumping into you".

Chris couldn't help his brows crumpling, Wesker would always pronounce his name...with emphasis it grated him. Being the commanding officer of their team, he couldn't exactly correct his boss.

"How are you feeling?" He asked briskly, running late.

Wesker raised one hand and inspected his nails, "better thanks just a common...virus".

Chris continued to hold the lift graciously, "I might head back here tonight to finish a few things. We can catch up than?"

Wesker brushed past him and stood inside. He tapped the 6th floor. His facial expression held the same poker face, "in that case I will see you later Chris". The doors mercifully shut.

Chris exhaled loudly, "how hard is it to pronounce my name!"

He headed towards the parking lot and managed to arrive outside Leon's apartment for 3:29 p.m. Leon was locking his doors, glancing at his watch and smirking at Chris who understood the taunt, briskly walking towards the car and into the passenger seat. Chris noticed the white plaster on his cheek.

Leon enquired, "where the hell is the food!?"

Chris frowned, in his haste he hadn't had time to get brunch. Leon's stomach complained and Chris's brows creased, turning the car around, "let's pick something up".

Leon tapped the window in thought, "why are you doing this?"

Chris glanced over his jaw, the swelling had been pretty bad last night and the plaster couldn't hide the obvious, that Leon's flesh had regenerated...tensing uncomfortably. The oblivious blonde noted neither of them had bothered wearing seat belts, "Chris?"

Chris processed mildly, "they haven't had an inspection in 6 months".

Leon knew it was just an excuse "well, after this, I want you to stop babysitting me…it's getting annoying".

Chris clenched the steering wheel, "where do you want to eat?"

Leon stared outside, "there's no time, I'll eat in the prison, is Claire coming over tonight?"

Chris stopped at an intermittent traffic light, "she's flying back tonight...message her later".

Leon lowered the passenger window. He was unbearably hot and couldn't take off his bloody hat which was hiding his colourful hair. The ridiculous plaster was his desperate attempt to hide his skin. His scars had healed inside those dreams. Leon could see the physical proof on his body but it was his soul that was feeling the full effects of those sanctified fires. It was like being hit by a drug. He felt detached from the ordinary world, as if, he was no longer a living part of it. Everything had slowed down and was unravelling in rewind. Only the three men that had passed through the equivalent flames were walking at the same pace as him. The rest of the world had faded into the background...in a blur of grey...while they were ignited in evocative colours of eddying constellations. How could he possibly pull away?

Leon stared at the passing firmaments. Michael had called him before he left the apartment. He had found nothing new on the twins, Leon knew he wouldn't, the names and identities were fake. What he had found on Nero had been disturbing. The police files had nothing on the forensic side of things since there were no bodies or eyewitnesses. Michael had filled in the gaps based purely on Nero's own testimony. A part of him refused to believe the teen was capable of so much cruelty. What he had done to those defenceless men had been gruesome but nothing compared to what the girl had suffered by his hands. Leon's mind unable to process the fact that the teen was a cold blooded killer.

The most useful information had come from the background checks. Michael had found the orphanage records. Nero was the sole survivor of a freak fire that had wiped out an entire town named Fortuna. He knew who the culprit was...he had been witness to those flames and understood the reasons for the town's destruction. What he didn't know was that location had been preserved as a nature reserve. The land had been cleansed and had subsequently flourished to be protected by the authorities. Leon knew she was still buried out there...somewhere. Every detail of that lake was burned in his memory, the footpaths…the blossoms...her poignant face. Michael hadn't found any pictures of her, everything and everyone had perished inside those blistering flames, but she was...real.

Chris gazed, worried, "want to talk about it?"

Leon closed the window, "nothing to talk about" considerately.

He couldn't even begin to explain what was happening to him. Who would believe him without sending him to a psychiatrist to get his head checked? The men in the prison were part human and devil. The twin named Dante had trusted him enough to give him his real name. Leon could still feel his distinctive hair between his fingertips and feel that heartening embrace. He couldn't deny the fact that the annoying guy had grown on him, despite his big mouth and outrageous behaviour. Dante was the only one who could clear any lingering doubts his rational mind was maintaining. Leon could see the first signs of barbed wire. His heart beat faster in a mixture of nerves and excitement. Leon was becoming consumed by this strange new world. He glanced at Chris suddenly afraid for him. He didn't want him to be a part of this, hoping he wouldn't find anything out of place. Leon was counting on it. They stopped outside the soaring black gates. The guard on patrol came over. This time Chris produced his badge and pointed to the gate.

Commanding "official B.S.A.A business, make sure you open that gate", expression stern.

The officer nodded rapidly and went back to the control panel. Chris drove the car inside and parked up. He got out and made his way inside with Leon by his side. They walked through the main entrance when another guard stopped them abruptly. 

"Hey, newbie, no civilians allowed through this entrance" pointing at Chris who flashed his badge and the guard was left stumped. "I would like a personal inspection by your superior". The flustered guard quickly headed for the staff phone located behind the front desk.

Leon snorts "a civilian?"

Chris was flattered, "your shift doesn't start until later, I expect you to accompany me...rookie" he took off his coat and held it in one arm.

Leon adjusted his hat, "is that an order or a request Mr. Redfield" bantering.

Chris smiled, "a humble request of course officer Kennedy" they both watched Robertson heading their way whose eyes lingered on Leon even as he spoke the words.

"Mr. Redfield what brings you here today? We haven't been informed about any surprise inspections".

Chris read his name badge and extended his hand, "not an inspection, actually I have heard good things about the prison".

Robertson greeted, "I would be extremely happy to offer a tour and provide any details you need about our handling of this facility".

Chris nod, "I won't take much of your time and I would like Officer Kennedy to accompany me, if that's OK with you".

Robertson beamed, "of course, right this way then" he turned around, the forged smile dropping.

They made their way together through the first set of barriers. Chris kept a close eye on the number of staff as they made their way through various departments, procedures, and check-points. It was ordinary, nothing seemed out of place and compared to other prisons this seemed to be well maintained despite being one of the oldest ones still operating. Robertson was well clued and organised.

Leon was walking quietly beside them, noticing the holding cells were all empty. He checked his watch and knew the prisoners were having their final meal of the day. The place was on lock-down for ridiculous hours. He was hoping to catch Nero and Dante once Chris had left the premises. The men stuck out from the crowd and wouldn't go unnoticed by him.

Robertson guided them towards the cafeteria and spoke softly on his speaker-mic. They passed through two double doors and came upon bustling laughter and talk. The cheery cons were gathered together on countless benches. Guards were patrolling from a connecting staircase. Chris gazed out across the room in search of the three intriguing men. It was the only reason he had come this far.

Leon was on edge. A part of him was still afraid to face Nero. Being near him, especially after that nightmare, would make him lose his calm composure. The last thing he wanted to do was act strangely in front of Chris. They were nowhere in sight...baffled. They had to be here, where else could they possibly be?

Chris strode past and got in line behind the other convicts, eyeing the two jailbirds serving the food. It was the twins. The two were wearing blue hair nets and aprons but their faces were notable. They were tall and well built. Chris picked up a tray to inspect the food. A piece of bread, vegetables, and lone meat pie were already positioned in their allocated compartments. The two of them were pouring stew in large bowels which the waiting cons were taking.

Leon reared behind Chris. The twin on the left glanced his way entranced, the one to the right...not so...whispering something into his ear. Chris gazed at him and this man met his stare. These eyes were different, they were equally assessing him. Chris reached the front of the line and this man filled his empty dish with generous amount of steaming soup, without spilling a single drop...meticulous.

Robertson joined them, "these two prepared the meals today and will be paid for their hard work. We like to encourage paid work here".

Chris inspected the food and remembered Leon hadn't eaten anything, "why don't we eat here. I can give you some feedback regarding the premises".

Robertson approved, "of course", grabbing two trays, "fill these" impolitely.

The twin with the shriller eyes started to fill their bowels when his brother gripped his hand. His eyes hadn't left Leon's face, Chris eyed suspiciously.

Dante smiled, "hey, Blondie, this doesn't have any sweetcorn in it and I know how much you like sweetcorn" in a husky and seductive voice.

Leon couldn't help a corresponding smile breaking his sealed lips. They had gotten lost in that cornfield…inside that dream...reassured by the hidden validation he had just received from the only person who knew exactly how he was feeling. "I think it is you who likes corn, not me".

Chris gaped at Leon. What was with that flirtatious tone astonished? What the hell was going on here? The unsmiling twin was by now glaring at his sibling, equally unenthusiastic. Two other inmates had joined the line behind them, one extremely skinny Caucasian man with black hair, the other, a bald forgettable guy. The skinny one elbowed his mediocre friend who was rubbernecking Leon. "They aren't fighting today" he snickered. The bald guy scratched his chin, "told you that blonde warden was his lover, it's a shame, he really does have nice skin" still a big fan of the erotic warden. Chris couldn't believe what he was overhearing.

Robertson was getting impatient, "I said fill these up".

It was the first time Chris had seen him lose his temper.

Leon seized the trays from Robertson's hands and offered them to the gossiping cons that he recognised. Robertson contracted when he spotted Akira waving him over.

"Excuse me for a second gentleman" leaving them alone.

Chris followed Robertson's movement who was by now talking to a tidy convict with long black hair. The dark haired man smiled at him pleasantly. Chris continued to watch them converse when the shady man decided to stick out his tongue and circle it slowly in what appeared to be a 'rimming' motion, making Chris frown profoundly and avert his unwelcome gaze…looked like everybody inside this jail was going nuts.

Leon met Vergil's unfriendly watch with a look of fascination. This was the devil he had seen, taking the limited time they had to introduce himself. "I don't think we have met".

Vergil was caught off guard by the friendly remark. This human knew what they were, he was sure of it and instead of radiating fear the abnormal blonde seemed to be drawn to them. Vergil didn't know what to make of this human's true intentions and if he posed a threat. Dante's arms wrapped him forcefully, binding him into his chest. The hair net was slipped off his head, without his consent, silver tresses plummeting over his brows. Dante clasped them lovingly between the thresholds of his fingertips and fixed them by clasping tightly. Every movement was etched with attentive affection and absolute devotion.

Dante introduced proudly "this is...my older brother...V-Vincent, bro I would like you to meet Officer Kennedy".

Leon smiled warmly. He had shared Dante's intense emotions, partaken in all his pain and hidden fears. Seeing them together was filling him with peculiar contentment. He couldn't help but feel the love in Dante's gaze, wanting to find the right words to describe the emotions he had shared and been overwhelmed by.

Leon stepped closer, "it's nice to finally meet you Dan...David he, he...can't be without you".

Vergil contemplated Dante. It was the first time someone else had told him what he had always felt inside his brother's gaze and touch. Dante worshipped him. It was love that couldn't be captured in words but could only be felt between the two. Yet this human's words and actions were as if he had peered inside his brother's heart and soul. Dante was incessantly rubbing his face much to his displeasure.

"Hear that Verge, I can't be without you..." cupping Vergil's jaw with one hand and smacking his cheek with a loving kiss. Hard enough to engrain his lips on his flesh and loud enough for all those eating to stare their way. Leon prevented a chuckle. Dante reminded him of an overgrown pup.

Vergil closed his eyes in dismay; everyone was watching the grossly inappropriate scene, including Akira. He didn't know how to calm his doting and out of control sibling. He knew the visions the two had shared was escalating the current situation. Nero was the source of their close intimacy. Those flames were truly a curse and a blessing. They were strengthening their bonds. Vergil could see this in Leon's overly accepting behaviour. It was the only elucidation to his blind acceptance of devils like them. Even he couldn't deny that he liked the sight of this human, just the thought was profound. Vergil had never accepted humans. He had always regarded them as nothing but inferior pests.

Leon's brows rose, "Nero...not with you?" He was suddenly troubled he hadn't seen the teen anywhere.

Dante and Vergil stared at each other. Dante released his hold over Vergil.

"I think you should check up on the kid, he wasn't feeling well and doesn't remember…the corn. We are stuck here for another half hour", fed up.

Leon understood the dropped hint. Nero didn't seem to remember the dreams like they could, completely failing to recall that Chris was still standing silently beside him, trying to act casual. "Chris we can head to the staff canteen for lunch…I'll buy".

Dante picked up the spoon and served the two nosy cons that were keen to receive added developments of his and the blonde's enduring love story. How could he ever forget about the one's that had implanted the deviant thoughts of trying new avenues? Dante splattered a rather generous amount of stew in their bowls. The bald sucker pointed at Leon.

"You got yourself some fine booty on that one" examining.

Chris grimaced. Dante on the other hand shamelessly reviewed Leon's ass appreciatively, "I have good taste, don't I", resting one hand under his chin in concentration unable to resist flirting. "Which reminds me Blondie, you should consider my request about trying something new, am only making an exception for you...you should feel flattered".

Leon chuckled quietly, recalling the flower Dante had offered "tempting, but think I will pass" suave.

Dante puffed, "I have a feeling you will change your mind".

Leon glanced at Chris and the smile faded. He took his coat from his arm, "let's go".

They were about to walk away when Dante spoke again "ah, Blondie, you forgot to introduce your friend?"

Leon gave Dante a displeased look, "no need for introductions here" serious.

Chris gripped his jacket out of his hands and held it, "why not...you two seem pretty chummy, introduce me to your new friends" quietly angered.

Vergil finally spoke, "we really don't have time for idle chit-chat, with the likes of you".

Leon slipped a hand over Chris's shoulder "come on, my shift starts in 30 minutes".

Chris inspected his watch, "introduce us", it wasn’t a request.

Leon knew something had upset him but what?

He spoke quickly, "Chris, this is David and his brother Vincent".

Dante examined Chris's clothes, "you a special agent or something" snooping.

Chris slid on his coat, "not exactly, I work for a special tactical unit".

Dante poured more stew inside the empty bowls for the remaining convicts still waiting in line. They had managed to feed the entire prison with the fresh meat they had dissected and prepared this a.m. The unfortunate remnants of the four cons were located inside the tasty meat pie and stew.

"You look like one" he finished chivalrously.

Robertson joined them, "I have some urgent work to finish, is it OK if I leave you in the care of Officer Kennedy for the rest of our tour?"

Chris had seen enough, "I was just about to leave, thank you for your time". He glanced at the man with dark hair who was gone.

Robertson smiled "anytime, we are always thrilled to have guests from the higher ups. Kennedy, I will see you later".

Leon nod. He was glad to hear that Chris would be leaving the jail and hadn't suspected anything, "you still up for lunch?"

Chris eyed the prison food, "I think I will pass, am heading back to the office".

Leon felt relieved but he couldn't help the nagging feeling that Chris was upset.

Dante stretched his arms and removed his hair net, "it was nice meeting you…uh, Chris".

Chris stared, "I have a feeling we might be seeing each other again".

Vergil wiped his hands, "I doubt that" the inciting jeer.

Chris's eyes narrowed at the insulting remark. He knew there was more to these two men. They didn't seem to exist in the real world yet their records had checked out. The twin known as Vincent was arrogant but it was the one named David that had gotten on his nerves.

Leon could feel the tension in the air, "I'll walk you out".

Chris strode away, "no need, stay here with your two friends".

Leon followed, matching his strides. They made their way out of the canteen.

"You OK" worried.

Chris didn't know what had set off his bad mood. It was obvious the "corn" was a code name but for what? The other prisoner's comments had left him puzzled but he hadn't believed them. What had hurt him the most was the way Leon had smiled at the brother's. How long ago had Chris seen that radiant smile? Why was he feeling so hurt by it...staring at Leon for the answers. He was hiding something from him, guarding a secret that those two men were a part of. Chris had been the outsider in their exchange, the one that hadn't belonged there and had been completely left out of the loop. It was the first time he had felt so isolated in the presence of the person closest to his heart. It had hurt him to know Leon had chosen to confide in them and left him out in the cold. It was as simple as that.

Leon gripped, "Chris, look…am sorry, if I did something wrong but I appreciate you coming out here", he meant his words, seeing Chris troubled was bothering him the most.

Chris answered impassionate, "forget it, do what you want".

Leon stopped abruptly. Chris's words had cut him. He knew him well enough to recognise his hurt face and words, feeling guilt as he watched his friend's disappearing figure. Leon would never forgive himself if anything happened to Chris. It was for the best if he didn't get involved. This is how Dante must have felt and had tried to warn him but it was already too late for him to turn back.

"Sorry Chris, but you're just going to have to sit this one out", deciding to find Nero.

They hadn't visited the other cell blocks on their little tour. Leon headed there while the place was still empty. It was eerily quiet, his footsteps echoing through the long green corridor, coming to a stand-still outside Nero's cell. It was unlocked as he slipped inside. Nero was fast asleep on the top bunk. The sight eased Leon's heart as he moved closer to inspect him, his flesh reacting to the sleeping youth with pins and needles. Leon raised the blanket to get a better look, realising quickly he had received fresh blows from what could only be batons. Leon felt anger and pain at the sight of these blemishes. He wanted to protect the teen from any more suffering at the hands of Robertson who was the likely culprit when he felt a warm hand gripping his fingers. Nero's sleepy eyes were staring at him.

"Vergil" he whispered.

Leon stared in wonder, "Vergil?"

He had heard this name before from Dante's lips, it was the real name of his brother, smiling, "go back to sleep. I was just checking up on you".

Nero clutched his hand tightly, voice trembling as he spoke, "I...I don't understand?"

Nero lifted and pulled him closer towards the bed, "I don't...understand" he whispered into his ear, in a faded voice.

Leon could tell straight away Nero was not in his senses. He rested his hand on top of his clawed one reassuringly, "what don't you understand?"

Nero hesitated before leaning in and kissing his cheek gently, "why, he...touches...you?"

Leon stood confused by the motion and words. Nero was obviously mistaking identities and he wasn't sure what had happened in his absence, "it's alright, get some rest, we'll talk later" casing the youth's frame under the blanket and stepping away from the bunk. He was about to make his way outside to find Nero standing in front of the cells. The surreal movement had startled him, for it had happened...in a blink of an eye.

Nero's head was lowered as he spoke in a faint tone, "answer the q-question, do you let him...fuck you...your own brother?"

Leon felt a subtle warning course through him. Nero's body language was distinctly hostile. The youth elevated his head and their acquainted eyes aligned. Those gentle Atlantic blues were unidentifiable. This was not Nero.

Leon followed his gut and decided not to engage, "step out of the way" the mild order. He didn't want to get into a physical altercation with the unstable teen who could have been a victim of substance abuse. Leon wouldn't put drugging past these sadistic wardens'.

Nero's hands were trembling as he stepped out of his way compliantly. Leon gripped the bars hesitantly not wanting to leave the complicated youth in this sorry state but his better judgement urging him to leave, forcing himself to break away when Nero's devil arm wrapped his neck, blocking him. Leon was dragged backwards and a scuffle ensued as he desperately tried to elbow Nero's ribs in a bid to escape. Nero growled and tightened his hold about his neck, restraining him. Leon couldn't breathe. The passages to his lungs tightened and coiled, eyes stinging face blood-shot. He dug his nails and scraped away at the flesh that even a sharpened knife wouldn't be able to penetrate...losing air...losing strength.

Nero's human hand ripped his jacket. Leon was confounded by the motion. Why was he doing this? He fought harder only to feel his lungs being crushed, body begging and fighting for air. It was no use. Nero tugged his jacket off roughly, shirt being yanked in the process which Nero sliced. The sound of the buttons scattering to the floor was deafening, along with their intensifying and unsteady breathes. Leon legs giving way, as his body writhed to cope. The winded teen fixed him securely in place and wouldn't let him fall.

"Please...stop" uttered in pain by the one being held captive.

Nero's human hand was travelling his revealing skin, fingernails tearing into his flesh. The stinging exploration commenced from below his stomach, rising upwards in painful heat as his nails climbed his chest and collars. Nero had memorised these movements by copying someone else and that someone else was loved by all...so very special, unlike him. The tired teen gradually sited small kisses about his jaw and face, raking his golden tresses which could never stay where he wanted them to. Nero's shaky fingers rubbed the rims of his lips faintly.

"Why...do you let him t-touch you...you always remove my hands but...but you like his touch" in a dilemma.

Leon's lungs squeezed, "s-stop...let me...go" he knew Nero would regret this moment.

The crushing devil arm loosened its noose, enough to let him breathe. Leon gulped and inhaled rapidly, taking lungs full of air, reaching a point that it bodily hurt to inhale, throat parched. He attempted to get out of the iron headlock but Nero tightened his grip again. There was no escape. His attacker buried his face into his hair and cried.

"It..., it hurts...I wish we never met...I wish you never saved me…I wish I didn't…love..."

Leon slanted his face, shocked by the passionate confession. Nero rested his hand over his jaw and bit into his lips. Leon's muffled cry was drowned by Nero's tongue which entered his mouth, suffocating him. Leon clutched his mane with both hands and tried to force him off, pulling out lumps of his tresses to no avail. He was steadily losing consciousness, fingers grazing and clawing Nero's face who pushed him down, head striking the sink. Leon bit down on his tongue in a final attempt to dislodge his attacker. The violent teen gripped his head with both hands and straddled him under his heavy body, overriding, his attack growing more and more frantic. The adolescence pinned, sustained, and above all fuelled their violent kiss. Leon was reduced bloodied, as the youth's unrelenting teeth, blood, and tongue overwhelmed his unsteady respires, lying motionless...surrendering.

Leon was falling down a dark and endless tunnel. He could see Chris as he had turned and walked away. Why had he hurt him? Leon could see his father clad in a black police uniform, just like the one...the morning he had died. Somewhere in his heart he had buried his father's painful memories, as if this man had never existed, grasping. Nero had done exactly the same. He couldn't remember her because it was just too painful to bear...the separation...the loss...the hurt. Leon came back into consciousness amid a fountain of scattered kisses falling around his torso.

"Nero" he called gently, tearing his splintered lips in effort. "I think...you remember her but you're...afraid".

The quiet teen paused quivering breathes puffing against his hurting flesh. Nero's eyes were still half-closed, lips dripping warmish blood. The teen had the face of someone who had lost everything. Leon tried to raise himself but Nero gripped his hands with his devil bringer so he couldn't move. Leon had seen these immense powers before. This illuminating glow was how the youth had carried his mother to her final resting place. A place they were destined to find together. Nero's hands were resting on top of his heart, his fingertips still trailing his skin as hungry osculation's pressed into his chest and about his bruised neck. Nero's bleeding tongue was sliding and dipping over the ridges of his prominent collars.

Leon shuddered, "she's beautiful...brown hair…an angelic face. She has your eyes...Nero".

Nero dipped into his face and kissed his lips, sucking and licking their merging blood, he wasn't listening. Leon groaned in pain, trying to turn his face away but the teen simply tilted in tune.

Leon's figure trembling as he tried again, "maybe, you were too young...but I know you dream about her, you haven't forgotten her".

Nero stopped. Leon could feel his body tensing against his, warm drops cascading onto his torso. The youth was crying. He was torn by his own actions. Leon felt the hold around his arms disappearing. The blue glow of his devil bringer vanished. He could see the bruises on his wrists as he lowered his exhausted arms. Nero was still lying down on top of him as the words fell quietly next to his hearing.

"I'm...I…fucked up", his voice quivered. Nero closed his eyes and covered his face with both hands. He lifted himself away from Leon's chest. "I fucked up...what I did…to you...I would never hurt you" overwhelmed. Leon lifted his hands and gripped Nero who flinched at the contact, "don't...don't touch me" he cracked, "don't".

Leon raised his beaten body into a sitting position. His tattered shirt was still clinging to his back. The cuts along his chest and stomach were still bleeding. "Want to tell me what the hell's going on"?

Nero's head lowered, "I said…get away from me" this time it was a warning.

Leon couldn't leave. Nero sat broken before him, about to rise from his midriff when he clutched his face tightly inside his hands. It was the teen's turn to be forcefully held so he could hear him.

"Me and Dante, we were with you last night when you…dreamed about her…your mother".

Nero gripped his shoulders, those once tiny fingertips which had cuddled his neck were crushing down on his bears but Leon handled the pain.

"We saw what they did...to her...we...saw", voice quieting, "you're not alone Nero and you never will be, we're with you".

Nero's face held unbearable heartache, lowering his forehead onto Leon's and stroking his white threads, "it hurts…I don't want to know who she is…am afraid to remember her…I'm scared of what I might do...what I might b-become."

Leon knew what he was doing was dangerous. What he had suffered at this teens hand should have confirmed the reality. Yet a part of him was bound to his heart. The same way, he felt for the twins. He couldn't part ways with any of them. Leon was clutching a small toddler inside his arms that was lost and alone in the world, an innocent child that had suffered badly along the way and had never known real happiness, a child that had been wondering all alone...until he had found the three of them. How could Leon not want to protect someone so precious, someone so unloved...embracing the inconsolable adolescence.

"It’s alright, we're with you" retelling.

Nero's lips trembled, "I...I couldn't save her".

Leon relaxed, "it's OK to remember her Nero…she will always be a part of you."

Nero closed his eyes, his body rocked by sobs. Leon was crying too, overcome by the roller-coaster of emotions they were sharing, feeling his heart sink at the fact that he had hurt the teen. The scratches were riddling his cheeks made by his own hands. Leon traced them gently and wiped Nero's tears with his thumbs that clutched his hands slowly.

"I want to be in solitary for a few days...can you make it happen?"

Leon whispered, "I doubt that will help anyone".

Nero opened his eyes and stared at his bloodied chest "something's wrong with me...I think I might hurt someone…the old man…D-Dante".

Leon grits his teeth, "why?"

Nero's voice painfully shook, "I...I...don't know...that demon...it did something to me".

Leon tightened his embrace, cold sweat snaked down his spine at the thought of demons prowling the premises.

"You won't, I won't let anything happen to either of you", trying to reassure Nero and himself.

Nero laughed abruptly, elevating his head and meeting Leon's worried stare, his eyes were tormented.

"I'm a fucking murderer", murmuring, "you should have run...while you still had the chance you…don't…learn" he snarled.

Nero's fangs came down on his neck. Warm blood trickled down his skin coating his torso. Nero's tongue lapped the wound slowly.

"I'm sorry...it's the only way" the parting echoes.

Leon felt the suffering, pain and hurt in them as he collapsed backwards from shock and exhaustion. Nero's arms enveloped his figure before he could collide with the floor. Temperate hands were cupping his head as his lips were kissed considerately, as if they were both dreaming again.

"I can't be around...any of you...I can't”, lonely.

Leon closed his eyes gently to Nero's warm embrace and dipping hair which grazed his jaw as he turned his head towards the direction of oncoming racket. The prisoners were returning to their cages. The devil bringer shimmered into existence and bound Leon's compliant wrists. Whoever was approaching their cell would see the two and assume the worst. It was what he wanted. Nero quickly removed Leon's belt and undid his zipper as he lay unconscious, inspecting the final bite he had inflicted that was still draining. Nero sat ashamed, pressing Leon into his chest, beholden. If it wasn't for the warden he would have destroyed whatever good was left in him. Leon had prevented his undoing and ultimate downfall.

"I won't forget this...b-brother".

A man's disappointed voice rung behind him, "hey, kid…never thought I would see this side of you".

Nero's face flushed, heart sprinting. He didn't want to see Dante's face, his fists clenched tightly, something inside of him was about to explode, placing Leon gently to the floor to stand. The teen strode out of the cell and stood in front of Dante. All eyes glided towards his bloodied face...silenced. The other convicts wisely scurried towards their cells. The accompanying wardens chose to watch the scene unfold from afar. Nero smeared his bloodied rims and motioned towards his bringer. Leon's body was dragged out of the cell and lifted into the air for all to see, mirroring a crucifixion. Nero wanted to show Dante what he had done and how low he had fallen. Dante's eyes were brimming with disgust as he doubled his arms.

Nero smirked, "what the fuck you going to do about it…old man?"

He didn't recognise his voice. He didn't recognise his newfound hatred. He didn't recognise his hunger for this man's blood.


	15. Words

Dante stirred closer, "let him go kid".

Nero licked his bloodied fingertips, "why? I'm not done with him".

Dante's eyes delayed over the bite on Leon's collar, blood rolling severely. He knew the situation could get ugly if he lost his temper. The kid wouldn't survive a fight with a beast like him despite his powers Nero was comparatively untested. The tricky part was he currently had Leon quite factually in his controls. Blondie was his main priority and the one holding him back from beating the crap out of the youth.

Dante smiled, "come on kid...can't we talk this one out?" Prodding Nero's chest, "me, you, and Blondie are friends so let's get along" running by again about their burgeoning bromance.

Nero gripped his finger and snapped it back paradoxically, "don't fucking...touch me".

Dante teleport behind him and cracked his broken finger into place, good-naturedly. Nero tilted his head to watch the red devil dashing and tearing across the adjacent wall and grabbing Leon's body inside his arms, winding and alighting impressively. The devil bringer altered its shape into a fiery fist and curled its prey, Dante's eyes widened in liability when he felt the lenient blue glow crushing a very human body. Fresh blood spurt between Leon's parted rims. Dante rested his floppy head against his chest. 

"Can't stay out of trouble, huh" unenthusiastically letting go as the hapless warden was hoisted back into the air.

Nero clamped his fist, "try that again smart-ass and I will crush him" voice strangely impassive.

Dante treaded, "words kid, can kindle a fire in the minds of men and words can wring tears from the hardest hearts", siting his hand over his chest, "so let's not resort to petty violence".

Nero smirked, "never thought I would hear poetry from that big mouth of yours, you're always talking shit".

Dante itched, unoffended, "you got a lot to learn from your elders, so let me teach you the first rule of engagement, it's about playing fair", indicating to Leon "Blondie is not looking good and it's only fair you put him down before we can dance".

Nero tightened his grip and slants his head.

Dante's eyes pulsed red.

"Come...closer" the cautioning.

Dante stepped in front of Nero who looked possessed.

"Snap out of it kid!"

Leon was fading; his human body wasn't going to last much longer. His life and death rested inside Nero's hands. The kid's emotions were pure bedlam, everything inside of him was a rampant hurricane of disorderly feelings even Dante couldn't decode. The hunter tilted his head awkwardly as Nero sketched his neckline with his talon.

"Have you…fucked him?"

Dante's eyes broadened in surprise, he stared at Leon in astonishment. "Ah! I admit Blondie is appealing but we really haven't gotten that far and I'm not even sure if I'm batting for our team" self-conscious.

He speculated if Nero could pick up his emotions? Nope, it was freaking impossible because he had learned how to hide behind his smile like an ace. Nero's claws dug into his tissue penetrating his flesh. Dante grasped his hand but he constricted his hold over Leon as warning to which the hunter obeyed and released.

Nero rumbled, "Vergil...have you…fucked him?"

Dante met Nero's spiteful stare. The question had left his mind completely blank. He knew the kid had feelings for Verge but he had never imagined their bond would be mistaken for something so unpretentious. Vergil had never been intimate with anyone. He on the other hand had myriad of lovers that never lasted longer than a single night. What he felt for Vergil was beyond Nero's comprehension. Their affiliation could never fit any grouping in the human realm. His brother was his all and his reason for living. An eloquent part of him had always been scared to dwell any deeper into the gloomy waters of his own heart. Dante had wondered if he had been right to fill Vergil's heart to the brinks with his traces, leaving no room for another. The guilt-ridden insight had never truly bothered him but the kid was managing to rouse obscurer emotions he didn't want to confront...afraid.

Dante smirked deceitfully, "so what if I have fucked him? It isn't your concern if I'm hammering my twin".

The fiend couldn't help evening the score the only way he knew how…by winding the kid up. Nero's nails dug deeper into his flesh. The contented reply had wounded him. Dante could see it written all over his face, blood pouring down his neck, staining his prison uniform but he didn't care, Nero's reaction was funny to watch. The hurt adolescence restored his face beside his jaw and kissed him caringly.

"You're...you're his brother…how can you…l-love him?"

Dante's grin dulled, with the kiss. He lamented his words because they had cut the youths heart. Being this close to Nero was an unexpected reminder of the needy toddler that had embraced him, the feel of those gemstone flames as they had shouldered each other's abysmal scabs. Dante's soul throbbed; discernments moving towards Leon with new conceptions. The blonde was in this state because he felt exactly the same love for the kid. They could never hurt him. Nero smiled slowly against his cheek perplexing him.

"You really are stupid...old man" the cruel insult.

Dante had been too slow to notice the decadent flames that were about to erupt from the youth's slaughtering appendage, decrypting his deadly intent. The kid was planning on burning him from the inside. His gifted blood was sacred…the source of all his demonic powers. Dante would never be able to regenerate his wounds if his blood was set alight. Nero had ensnared him, close enough, to be able to grip the vessel's pumping blood to his heart. They would transmit blazes and carry death. Dante's eyes constricted.

Nero roared "too fucking late!"

The infernos ruptured but they could never reach Dante. Nero gazed up in blow. His arm was pinned to the wall behind him by a lightning spectre sword. It had happened so quickly his mind was still trying to detect his current location. The wardens stepped away as Vergil made his way towards Nero, eyes brutal bloodshot, face fearsome. It was the first time he was truthfully fuming and not wearing a façade to conceal his fixated passions. Any cons that had dared to watch on idly ran into their lockups. They could feel his threatening power surging in the air. Vergil elevated his sturdy hand as yet another rapier ascended the air thumping Nero in the torso. He groaned in ache. The devil bringer was wiped out, Leon's figure falling to the floor. Vergil paced past Dante who treaded in front of him trying to force him back.

"Verge, calm the fuck down kid is not..." unnerved, he wasn't listening.

Nero was viciously struck in the shoulder and stomach. He spat blood from his mouth and wiped it with the back of his human hand. Two more spectre blades lodged his upper thighs with such potency that he fell to his knees, his body blowing up in agony. The swords were scorched with heat and voltage and were slitting his skin to strips. Nero was bathed in his blood as he tried to remove the one wedged inside his devil arm. Vergil yanked his hair and lifts his head. The teen was staring at the man that had become his guardian angel, pleased, this is what he wanted, to die by these hands. Nero knew what he had done to Leon and Dante would be nailing his tomb. He had been swept away by his desire to destroy everything he was and had become. Nero wanted to be set free from the prison he had erected. Vergil had the keys.

Dante gripped, "Vergil!"

The blue devil snubbed, summoning Yamato. The treasured blade ripped its way out of his right wrist, the stony steel inching its way out of his protracted arm. Dante freaked, he didn't want the kid to die here, gripping his brother's unresponsive face.

"Verge…please" he yelled.

He could see the gold oval guard as the knife-edges merciless tip affected the floor. If the black and blue hilt found its way inside his brother's hand God himself wouldn't be able to stop this thirsting blade. Dante slipped his unstable hands behind Vergil's neck and hugged him. It was the only way to bottle his fury. He had realized with his mother's death that it was his touch that had brought them closer together. Vergil was the only one who could lull his heart, his anxieties, and all his never-ending uncertainties. He was the cool breeze and shade from the hard sun that was their hard-hitting life.

Dante whispered, "I'm alright Verge, nothing will ever happen to me…coz I got you by my side".

The red devil tended into Vergil's lips and kissed their warm folds, receiving the onrushing respires and the thrashing of their hearts. Both sounds he had come to love dearly. Dante lowered his gaze to view Yamato. The image of the katana should have filled him with hate, it had claimed his mother's life but how could he when Yamato only and only ever reminded him of Vergil. The hilt was firmly inside his brother's accomplished hand, his knuckle pale from fascinating it forcefully, eyes still burning...one hand immobile over Nero's hair. Dante's brows creased in uneasiness when his eyes fell on Leon's lifeless body but he couldn't leave Vergil's side. The kid would die and he couldn't let that happen.

Vergil freed Nero's hair unhurriedly. The phantom swords splintered and disappeared from his physique. Yamato was assembling backwards into his waiting skin. Dante's hand slid down his arm and held his bloodied fingertips. Summoning the blade, without his devil-trigger and in his human form was excruciating to watch. Vergil sited his hand about Dante's neck which had cured, inspecting his flesh…paranoid.

Dante joked "haven't seen you this pissed in a while, apart from the day I stole Mato" he chuckled inclining their temples, "being chased by you, even as a kid was pretty scary Verge. I still have nightmares about your teleporting techniques".

Vergil squeezed his jawbone, "you're getting careless" discordant.

Dante grinned "nope, knowing you're around just makes me lazy that's all" entwining their fingertips.

This moment was further confirmation of what he had always known in his heart. Even if he tried he couldn't stop filling Vergil's body with his touches. It was he who couldn't live without them. They both stared at Nero who was sitting in a pool of accumulating blood. Dante let Vergil go and walked over to Leon's body, he bent.

"Blondie needs help; I will take him to the doc before he dies on us".

Vergil allowed "if you intend to do what I think you will...I suggest you exercise caution. We have never shared our blood and its affects are…rather strange". Vergil stared at Nero with a look of condescension, "this...hybrid has been behaving oddly since I shared my blood with him".

Dante smirked and hoisted Leon over his shoulder, "never thought the day would come where you, Vergil Sparda, would be considered a blood donor?" Vergil gave him an irritated look as he came and stood beside him.

"I doubt it's the blood, kid can't keep his eyes off you and finds me an eyesore".

Vergil delivered, "we are...twins" sarcastically.

Dante gripped his oozing wrist, "but the kid is in love with you, not me", kissing his fingertips and tracing their edges between the folds of his lips.

Vergil voiced "love?" disconcerted. "My understanding of human emotion is...slight, is this not termed bromance...male platonic bonding?"

Dante snorted noisily, he couldn't help it. Vergil's lack of understanding on the "matters of the heart" was highly entertaining; seeing his flustered side was hilarious and he being the devil that he was would relish the opportunity to tease the clueless elder.

"Think the kid likes, likes you...y' know?"

Evil grin embryonic, "the kind of "like" where he wants to get in your pa-mph".

Vergil cupped his aberrant mouth shut before he could finish. He had never imagined Dante could be so lewd, jaw compressed when he could still feel his cheeky smile against his palm.

"The hybrid is...gay, is that what you're telling me?"

Dante pointed to his hand, Vergil lifted it reluctantly. "Kid appeared to be a straight arrow, seems like he is bending his straight trajectory just for you, technically making him bi-sexual".

Vergil shook his head, "the human race is obsessed with grouping itself in imprudent ways it's impossible to keep up", irritated by the said subject altogether.

Dante established "gives them a sense of belonging. The first rule of conformity is to group your sorry ass and follow the other sheep. Society is no different from this jail if you think about it...same rules apply" thoughtful.

Vergil pondered "humans like to be controlled by others it gives them a sense of purpose over their mediocre lives…identity".

Dante glanced towards Nero who was going in and out of consciousness, "take it easy on the kid, he isn't all there and is confused himself, possibly just horny", proposing a plausible explanation.

The hunter sympathized...he was going to get laid, non-stop, by all the sexy ladies upon his early release. Unlike Vergil he appreciated the guilty pleasures his good looks and this life had to offer a stud like him. He realised he was involuntarily caressing Leon's waist and halted brusquely at how smooth his skin was. Dante frowned and met Vergil's questioning eyes.

"I don't know how long I can hold out, am worried about my own manhood and might have developed a crush on Blon-mph".

Vergil had cupped his entrance...again. Dante's eyes pointed, he bit down on Vergil's finger spiritedly who retaliated by pinching his nose shut making him sneeze. Dante brushed his nose, "touché Verge, you still know my weak spots".

Vergil cleaned the saliva from his lips with his thumb, "I know you're...heart".

Dante was lost for words. He could see the changes in Vergil and himself. They had never been so open about their feelings for one another. He squeezed his shoulder and headed for the infirmary, grinning at the useless wardens as he strutted past them, they didn't try to stop him or help Nero. They were afraid of Vergil and his capabilities. They knew they were no match for these devils. The other cons observed, scared stiff. Vergil crouched in front of Nero and lifted his chin with one finger, the youth averted his eyes.

"You have proved today you are unworthy to join the two of us".

Nero blinked a few times, dazed.

Vergil rested his lips beside his ears and spoke the words slowly, so he would hear them. 

"I'm sparing your pathetic life for the sake of my brother". His eyes assessed the wounds on his body dismissively. "Do not show me your face tonight. My anger has not been appeased and I cannot promise I will be so generous next time I see...you".

Nero could feel the knot in his throat and the crushing feeling inside his chest. His heart tearing to pieces...numbing the physical pain he was in. He had finally come back to his senses. The scent that was filling him was calming the storm and shedding the darkness that had gripped his heart. Nero had been wrong to think of their bond in such a twisted way. He felt nothing but repulsion for what he had done to Leon and said to Dante. How could he ever face them when he had fallen in his own eyes?

Vergil's wrist was still leaking blood. The katana that had pierced its way through his body was the most beautiful weapon he had ever seen. Nero wanted to see Vergil wield it inside his hands, to watch him fight. He wondered what it would have been like to be a part of their world, to acquire, evolve and understand his own powers under their wings and guidance. It was just a vanishing dream.

Whispering, "you...you're still b-bleeding".

Vergil's breathes puffed against his cheek as he leaned into his figure, heart racing. He gripped his wrist and beckoned his cerulean flames so they would only grace the other's skin. Nero didn't want to cure himself. The sight of Vergil's blood was giving him the control he thought he never had. It was agonizing to watch the person he held so dear…bleed. The flames complied with his sturdy resolve. Vergil tried to shift away but Nero held his shoulder with his human hand, scarcely managing to speak his heart's mournful cries.

"I haven't slept in so long...I had forgotten what it was like to sleep", shutting his wary eyes. "I had come to hate the nights, they were endless and I was the only one awake...the only one too exhausted to live, I wanted to thank you...for always…saving me", voice flouting, "for your kindness".

Nero didn't want his blood to stain Vergil's skin but his scent was drawing him closer. He continued to hold his wrist until it was copiously whole, letting go slowly, his fingers tracing the hands of the individual he was trying so hard to let go of.

Vergil dignified, "I said I would teach you and I would like to honour my words since this is the last time I will address you directly".

Nero lifted his head in surprise. Vergil's voice was calming his restive heart. His eyes almost appeared white as he spoke the words. "Power is nothing without control, never forget it". He stroked his slender fingers by habit.

"Your father's blood is truly enigmatic for he has gifted you with an arm that is a part of your human body. Your power is limitless. You will never require a trigger since it lies at the touch of your hands". His concentrated stare fell on his face. "It has always been your foolish emotions that have held you back".

"Devil's...never...cry".

Vergil ascended, "you have two choices, heal yourself by summoning your blue flames or perish. I undertake you have already made up your…idiotic mind" much to his anger. "Why do you not embrace…who you truly are and what you can become?"

Nero willed his crumpled body to rise, clutching the wall for support. Virtuous face distorted in pain, every movement was anguish. There was nothing left to say. He was a coward that would always choose to run away from accepting himself. He wasn't strong like the three of them. Being in their presence had only confirmed the reality. Nero wasn't good enough to join their side, an obscure shadow that didn't belong in their light. Akira's words rung true, he had hidden himself in the shadows for so long he had become afraid of the light, tears dripping from his worn-out eyes, unmoving. Why did his steps feel so heavy? Why couldn't he find the strength to walk away from this man? His devil arm was emitting a faint blue light. It was his heartbeat. It was slowing down precariously. He didn't have much time left. Isn't this what he wanted…to part ways?

Vergil continued "each of us have the power to carve our own path, is what my father has taught me and what I stand for. You still have a choice…to live".

Nero rested his head against the wall...eyes refusing to part from Vergil's face. He was the shore that was in his gasp but he was willingly drowning himself. The sunrise and the sunset were secreted inside these wintry eyes which were holding his heart captive. This was the last time he would ever see them. Nero had never imagined love could make him lose his mind. How could he have fallen so deeply for another…having loved someone else for so long. Could it be that he had never truly known what love was? It defied logic, reason…laws, and was causing him misery unlike he had ever known in all his young years. Vergil met his gaze. Nero couldn't break away. He parted his lips to say something, anything, but there was only silence between them. The sight of this man was hurting him more than any wounds he had inflicted over his body. He looked away when he realised Vergil could recite his thoughts. It frightened him.

Vergil quieted softly, "it is said that silence is better than any dialogue for it allows you to dwell into speech that God himself favours, a moment of calm for the listless soul" inferring his minds speech.

Nero stared at the floor in quiet defeat. Vergil's voice held a hint of tenderness. Maybe, it was his imagination but he was becoming afraid. Vergil was peering into his dark heart. He didn't want to disgust him with his fucked up feelings and forced a step away, his blood trailing the walls and the green floor. He stopped abruptly when Vergil spoke again.

"I have never understood love, why people would choose willingly to endure such pain and torment for another's affection. Yet it appears to devour everyone and everything in its wake, leaving only destruction and heartbreak in its trail" assessing his healed wrist interestedly.

Nero knew these feelings were one-sided yet he felt fear at the pit of his stomach at being coldly rejected. He didn't want to hear this man's alluring voice or feel these powerful words from being forever embedded in his memories. Vergil was trying to comprehend his wretched feelings and it was too much for Nero who was overcome by the need to hide himself away from this dim world, in search of shelter that he could never quite find. The teen stopped to take a rattled breathe and slipped on blood, collapsing to one knee and rising slowly.

Vergil observed kindly, "I can never return your feelings. I wouldn't know how. I am incapable of reaching these emotional depths or matching them…unsuitable".

"I'm not like my brother...Nero" confiding.

Nero was stunned; it was the first time Vergil had spoken his name. He watched the blood falling from his whitish skin, touched by Vergil's words. He had never imagined such temperate acceptance of his broken feelings, even though Vergil would never return them. His heart began to twinge, if he didn't say anything in his dying moments, he would remorse. Vergil had affected his disjointed soul and given him hope.

Nero steadied, "I…thought I knew love, what it felt and tasted like…but now I…only feel...suffocation" he gazed out and was bounded by spiralling snowfalls. Vergil was the only person standing here…with him. The adolescence lifted his hand and a snowflake fell gently inside his bloodied palm. 

"It's like finding a place where I can lose myself...a place where I find solitude and don't have to run from the world or hide from my shadow…my past…myself".

The cherry blossoms were falling all around him; he stared up at the white sky as they fell against his red cheeks. His mind had never been so unblemished. "I never thought I would find this stillness, this refuge, this peace in solitude". Body quivering, "I know I don't belong here but I never want to escape this place...your presence, your scent, your soul it...it completes me". The sleet whirling pink with his blood.

He smiled, "if this is love than I understand why others destroy themselves for it, they rather die than lose the one that can bring them this rest. I guess...I just want something I can never have".

Nero blinked and he was back in the confines of his prison, his palm hopelessly empty. Had he spoken these words aloud? Did Vergil hear them? It didn't matter. The end was in sight. Vergil entered his cell without another word, he looked troubled. Nero walked past the wardens and made his way towards solitary confinement. His vision was fuzzy from blood loss as he reached the second barrier. Two lanky wardens were on patrol, their eyes widened in distrust as he spoke to them.

"Open up…Akira's orders".

The warden unlocked the bars and he faltered past them towards the lonely cells, collapsing. It was the same room he had almost burned. He could see the incoherent scribbling's. It was still daylight but darkness swarmed him as he crawled towards the charred wall and started to sketch a rainbow with his blood. It was what Kyrie had liked. Nero kissed the sketch and laid his head down to sleep. He could picture the female who engrossed his visions, he remembered who she was. Leon had given him the courage to recall his mother's face.

His warm tears trailed down his cheeks, body swayed by loud sobs "my mother...why did they burn my mother?" He clutched his chest in anguish and mourning. "I remember you", he wept, "I miss you…I love you...so much, you're in my veins...a part of me".

She was smiling at him as he played in the fields, sitting on the porch making bouquets. The Lilies were her favourite flowers. "Neri" she would call him by this name and he would hide from her. The whole meadow was their playground. He could smell her perfume as she drifted closer to find him, a mixture of jasmine, her undemanding hands touching the grass as he watched her from afar. His arm would glow blue at the sight of her so he hid it in the foliage. Nero stopped a giggle leaving his lips as she went the wrong way in their game of hide and seeks.

"Neri baby...Mama is tired come out" giving up.

She rubbed her hair with the back of her hand and rested her hands over her hips, tired. Nero ran towards her with such speed that the world becomes a haze. But she was never afraid of his activities or his immense powers. Her arms were always open to receive her gifted son. Her warm embrace enclosed him as they lay together inside the high grass, looking up at the vibrant blue skies, tiny hands clasping her silky hair. She lifted herself into a sitting position and rested him against her chest, swaying him quietly.

"Neri, want to hear a story?"

He nodded his sleepy head, her eyes teeming with care.

"You see the lilies?"

Nero sucked his clawed thumb and pointed towards the entryway. She kissed his small cheeks repeatedly.

"Good boy, it blooms from the darkest parts of the marsh. Even though the blossom grows in filthy mud, it produces a bud so pure, so very pretty, time stops to watch it flourish." She drew his devil arm with her hands. "At night when the lilies are touched by darkness...they close and with the first rays of the sun they open...no harm can ever befall such a precious flower".

Nero drowsily gazed towards the lake. On the other side he could see a white wolf, it was fiercely watching over the two. He had never seen such a superb animal before. It was large in stature, the size of an adult tiger. He wanted to capture it, make it his own. The excited child scrambled away from his mother's grip.

"Dog-gy Mama", he pointed so she could see.

She burst out crying and clutched him snugly, running frantically towards the lake, her long dress getting tangled in the shrub which she heaved. Nero held tightly, confused by her actions as she stopped near the dividing waters, out of breathe. The wolf snarled bearing its fangs, eyes blood stained. Its white hair standing in spines as it shook its colossal figure. The panicky girl was without regard as she scuttled into the waters.

"Hold on tight Nero, hold on to me!"

She positioned him over her back and he held her firmly. The wolf howled. The melancholy sound sent a tremor through them. It both frightened and soothed him. The water was getting deeper. Nero shut his eyes and mouth as the water swallowed him, chilling to the bone, "Mama" he wheezed, terrified, and she stopped trying to swim the rest of the way…broken-hearted.

She cried breathless "where were you…where!"

Nero signalled to his bringer and stretched. The imploring girl watched as her sons surging light passed the rift to grasp the magnificent wolf. Nero stroked his fur and felt the traces inside his human hand which he rested against her tender cheek, "feels doggie Mama".

The girl wrapped his clawed hand and burst out laughing, for her hands could feel his pelt…overjoyed. Nero had never seen his mother so happy, she was radiating at the sight of this unusual being. Nero stopped when he suddenly felt warm skin instead of fleece. A tall man was standing where the wolf had been seconds earlier. His naked figure bathed in Gold light, long snowy hair cascading to his hips, a mutilation marring his left eye, a fresh perpendicular wound abides his thin torso. The guarded man was holding his devil bringer against his jaw, "Nero", the indistinct whisper as lightning collided with the spot where he was standing…gone. His mother's eyes looked lost as she glanced around in bewilderment and utter tremor.

Nero could feel her body starting to tremble. He patted her face and she gripped his hands tightly to swim back to shore, tripping out of the waters, her dress clinging and spoiled. The devastated girl turned around, her eyes unceasingly searching in hope. The two stood shivering...until it was dusk. Nero sneezed and wiped his gooey nose. Her restless eyes fell on his face and she took him inside the refuges of their small home. The girl pointed to the unlit fireplace and he came running over to set the wood ablaze. She changed his clothes and dried his hair. Nero could tell she was sad. She tucked him into bed and sat down on the wooden floor, her damp head resting on his pillow. She hadn't troubled changing her drenched garments. Her hands were icy as she caressed his warming up cheeks.

"Sleep my sweet child...I know he will return".

Crying "he has and always will watch over us".

Nero couldn't keep his eyes open, her heat and love shielding him. She was all he ever needed. He had never thought about his father. The teen didn't know what he had seen that day but her words were untrue. Nero had never laid eyes on a white wolf again…his father didn't exist.

"Nero" a woman's soft voice uttered his name.

The drained adolescence widened his eyes to find a beautiful girl sitting on her knees dressed in an oversize prison uniform. Her shadowy hair was dipping down her stomach. Her black eyes the shape of almonds, long lashes humid with tears, her complete lips and cheeks blushing. She wiped his tears with her kind hands and rested his head on her generous legs.

"My poor fox, just look at what that vicious wolf has done to you?"

Nero's eyes widened in horror, he lifted his head, "Akira!?"

The girl smiled and stripped her prison uniform until she sat unclothed, grabbing his hands and locating them over her luscious breasts. He felt himself harden at the graze of her nipples and tried to move away but she straddled his hips.

"Don't be shy, I know your body is aching…let me help you find...release".

Extended tongue slid inside his earlobe, her hand descending inside his pants gripping his hardened cock. Nero couldn't stop a sigh from leaving his lips. He knew now that black smoke he had inhaled was the cause of his deprived actions. Akira started to stroke him, free hand climbing up his chest raising his shirt. Her tongue encircled his nipples jaggedly. He had no strength left as she licked his gaping cuts, her ravishing tongue sprawling his body where the rapiers had found his flesh. The teen resisted, he didn't want to be intimate with this demon. Its ugly form was secreted behind these alias identities and what lay beneath was a monster from the darkest pits of hell.

Nero had been too broken to fix himself, too numb and hollow to face his scars, his mistakes, his sins. He had found his inner strength in those around him. Leon, Dante, and Vergil, had changed him. He was beginning to accept his past and himself. Atonement for his mistakes didn't equate to unnecessary punishment he was perpetrating. The truth was...he was afraid of losing them; he had always lost the ones he loved. Nero had selfishly run away, in hope, that he wouldn't suffer despair. In the process, he had lost his last chance to a new life, a new start, a new beginning. He really was a…idiot.

Akira's voice woke him up "don't ignore me foxy."

Nero recalled he was dying. The thought was reassuring. He gripped her hair; she bit her lips in desire as he leaned into her face, "fuck...off".

Akira pouts and lay down beside him, testing his flesh. "Sorry foxy, I can't let you die, you're a very valuable part of my plot" she vehemently kissed his lips.

The black substance that had corrupted his heart was consuming his lungs. He had no fight left to stand. Vergil's face was burning away from his mind like he never existed. All he could feel was darkness as he fell into the void. There was no gravity here he surrendered to the unknown knowing no one was left to catch him. Nero was lost inside this place and there was no way out. A woman's soft ditty echoed.

"Show me your heart, show me your pain, if you let me inside, it won't be in vain, for I will heal you and I shall fill you so come on little foxy let me...break you?"

Nero's mind strayed and he caught a glimpse of a white dress. Kyrie was standing in front of him; she removed the red ribbon from her hair. Her beautiful tresses fell about her face. She was barefooted. His hands skimmed her midriff and he raised her into his arms. Kyrie stroked his right cheek with her nail…he felt a slight sting before the blood.

"You said you loved me Nero…so why have you forgotten me" her accusation.

Nero stared out across the gloomy canvass of emptiness as she continued to cut his skin. He hadn't forgotten her...he was in love with her wasn't he?

"I love you Kyrie" committed.

Nero had missed her so much, embracing.

Kyrie alleged "prove it".

Nero kissed her lips. He wanted to show her how much he loved her. This nothingness was making him forget his hurt. He couldn't remember why he was here or who he was. Everything was barren like his decomposing heart. Yet this loving kiss couldn't placate a hunger within him, it was avid. Nero constricted, hoping her arms and lips could fill this abysmal desolation that had suddenly rapt his heart. Even her restful arms couldn't make him whole…why? Nero untied his eyes gradually and stilled, unravelling from her lips, breaking their kiss.

Kyrie asked "what's wrong?" Pressing into his mouth but he turned away.

"I don't know" softly damaged.

Nero's heart was searching for a man's distinguished scent which was no longer here.

Akira kissed his chin and leered, "clever fox, even as I take the form of your beloved you are being so naughty. Well, let's just do this the old fashioned way, shall we".

Akira blew with her lips and the room was filled with black locust. They swarmed around Nero who watched their movements in a trance. She widened his mouth, "open up honey, you are being promoted to my new pet status" exhilarated.

The locust started to fly down his throat. Akira clicked her fingers and transformed into her male form. He stripped Nero and studied his complexion. The wounds he had licked had stopped bleeding. He traced them with his hands knowing Vergil had imposed them on the young devil. Just the thought of his in-humaneness was enough to make him terribly horny.

"Such a bad, bad, boy you are...you're making me and this poor fox go crazy in love" spinning.

The locust continued to stream down Nero's gorge; he was completely encircled by them. Akira knew he couldn't wait any longer to possess Vergil, six days was a long time to wait and he had been unidentified in the obscurities for too long. It was time to see the world and go outside. He walked out of the cell and closed the door behind him. The two guards were trying their best to avoid looking at his expanding private parts. He had forgotten to put his pants on in all his excitement.

Akira gripped the taller one by the balls. "You…make sure no one enters this cell. Only open it when he stops screaming and don't approach him unless you wish to die". The guard gulped and he squeezed his balls solider making him grunt in pain, "take shifts, it may take days".

Akira released and took the sweaty guard's hat, wearing it he struck his tresses and walked away, swaying his naked hips side to side. The guard quickly headed towards the cell and locked it. He tested the door over and over again and couldn't help looking inside the small window. The room was filled with black smoke. The spine-chilling sight made him hurry away. He quickly joined his friend who was glued to the same spot. They both jumped when they heard Nero's tormented cries, ever-increasing.


	16. The Mark

Dante paused in the middle of the corridors when he noticed his reflection in the windows, angling to one side.

"Well, what do you know...he does have a nice ass"?

The red devil advanced to groping Leon's rear, spanking it indecently, before resuming a brisk walk. There was presently one doctor available on duty and he was frantically attending to four convicts that were prone comatose with embellishing IV drips. Dante crept up behind him. The medic was never going to hear his oncoming footsteps. Dante tapped his shoulder to get his attention, startling the doctor who dropped his clipboard utterly spooked, gazing at Dante wide-eyed and managing to identify the sagging warden.

Exhaling, "Officer Kennedy...again?"

Dante tapped Leon's butt, "he got cornered by another inmate I happen to be around and rescued him. The guards asked me to bring him here since we're...related" fraudulent. Judging the four bed-ridden men as the doctor digested his lie. They seemed familiar like he had met them before but where?

Nosy, "what's wrong with those guys?"

The doctor rubbed his face with a handkerchief, "it appears, they all suffered a mental breakdown. They claimed they were going to be sacrificed and devoured by a demon". 

It wasn't the first time he had the pleasure of hearing these hair-raising versions of the same fiction, past detainees had reported comparable stories, none of which were true of course.

Dante recalled. They were the four men that had been dragged into the kitchen to be killed. They were the alternative ingredients on Akira's 'A-La-Carte' menu had they not agreed to his original request. A grin plastered his face at how perverse this jail had become, positioning Leon's body on the vacant bed.

"It's a great story but right now I need you to focus on Blondie here" scratches.

The well-worn doctor gazed out towards the hallway blankly, "who authorised your leave from the cell?"

Dante simpered pleasantly, "I and Officer Kennedy here are cousins, before he passed out he authorised my leave", more lies.

The specialist pursed his lips sceptically, he studied their faces, "I suppose, I do see a resemblance but I'm not quite sure what the procedure is in..."

Dante stepped past and headed towards the cabinets, rummaging through them.

The doctor interjects, "what do you think you're doing!?"

Dante flouted having situated all the bits and pieces he was searching for, clean bandages, alcohol swipes and of course medical tape. The physician shadowed his every move as he made his way back to his latest patient, arranging the items on top of the medicinal plate, facilitating.

"You're too slow doc, you need to keep up, begin by spring-cleaning his cuts".

The consultant stood shocked, his face rotating red, "how dare you come in here and boss me around. I can handle this so leave before I call the guards" affronted.

Dante doubled his arms. It was bizarre that they only had one doctor on the premises and he was only trying to help out. "Sorry doc, no can do, not until he wakes up, am worried about him" dogged.

The medic gave up trying to deal with the tenacious uninvited guest. He started to check Leon's body over, beginning by removing his ragged shirt. Dante observed all his injuries. The kid's bringer had embedded hefty bottle green and purple shiners across his chest, pin marks were stretched over his skin evidently made by Nero's nails, siting a disbelieving hand over his face. Did the kid really do this? It was far-fetched. The doctor examined the most gruesome injury, the bite mark to the collar made by a set of very sharp teeth.

Directing, "there are clean towels in the bottom cabinet, bring them to me".

Dante ogled doubtfully at his sudden change of attitude, "you planning on hitting a panic button" tongue-in-cheek.

The medic splashed his hands in the sink, "sadly, it doesn't work and no one has bothered fixing it" gesturing towards his desk.

Dante could see a switch from where he stood concealed under the bench. The consultant dried his hands and took a silver tin with cotton wool, getting to work.

"He will require stitches... this is pretty deep" charting.

Dante gave him the cloths, "where's the rest of your team?"

The doctor was in two minds about using the available anaesthetic, deciding to omit. He placed it back in the tray and prodded Leon's casing with a pair of metal tweezers.

"We had a few part timers, they all quit. They haven't bothered recruiting anyone else…I can't leave these men unattended".

He prepared the surgical thread and started to stitch Leon's skin skilfully. Dante turned away, for some bizarre reason it was making him queasy, almost faded, he sat down on the chair next to the single bed. The doctor perceived and his concentrated brows unstiffened.

"It happens to the best of us, seeing someone we care, hurt, is harder to stomach then your own wounds".

Dante glanced at Leon doubtfully. He had only known the guy two days. How was it even possible to be this attached to one another? It was definitely the kid's magical flames to fault, checking his bulging vein. "Give him my blood doc" the unexpected request.

The medic cut the stitch up and sponged his brow, "no need, we have blood here. I will need to take a sample of his to see…"

Dante wrapped his wrist, "I insist" challenging.

The serious look on his typically cheery face made the doctor turn pallid. Being around Vergil had trained him on how to change people's minds…nippily. The red devil released his hold over the medic who was still standing stationary like he had been struck by lightning, taking off in hustle to obtain the necessary equipment, keeping a mistrustful eye on Dante as he laid-back. The doctor set up the tubes and wrapped a plastic coil around his muscly arm, edgily waiting for the vein to become detectable, hands shaking as he pushed the needle, attaching it to a separate bottle hooked to Leon's limb with a single drip.

Dante concentrated, he was timing this…he had to. Unaware how Blondie's body would respond to his demonic fusion and whether it would even work. The silvery hair had expanded and it was a fairly good hint that Leon's body was altering mutually. The doctor by this point was scrubbing Leon's blood-spattered mouth when his brows puckered dubiously faulting his tired eyes, muttering doubt.

"It seems, his lips haven't been cut, must have been the blood from his neck".

Dante smirked, his ethereal plasma was unassailable. Leon would patch up in no time. He could see the contusions fading. The poor doctor was most definitely going to suffer a heart attack if he witnessed his patients flesh restoring right before his eyes.

Distracting, "doc...I think I'm...not feeling well, did I tell you I was anaemic?"

The medic's expression blanched, he dropped the cloth rapidly and rushed to his side to detach the needle and drip from his forearm, checking his pulse, "you should have told me much, much, earlier" alarmed.

Dante blinked, "medical negligence is something my lawyer is quite good at addressing, so I suggest you set up an extra bed, seeing as its lock-down and I almost died" performing like a spot-on scoundrel.

The consultant looked daggers and sited a cotton bud over his forearm, squeezing hard before applying a rather generous amount of white medical tape, flattening it down for good measure.

Dante sulked "y' know this shit rips your skin when you try to take it off, for sure you doctors know this" complaining.

The doctor added another strip defiantly, "precisely, for infuriating patients like you".

The irritated medic energetically headed out of the area to wheel in the additional bed to house the increasing number of men that were finding their way into the quiet sickbay. By the time he returned he was left dumbfounded. The warden was swathe in fresh bandages competently...even his clothing had been altered into blue hospital pants, jolting when he heard Dante's voice behind him.

"I know, pretty good right, been doing this since I was a kid, makes me think that I could have been a doctor myself, much sexier one at that" full of himself and probably right.

The doctor snubbed and positioned the bed, "it's just for tonight. I suggest you behave" cautionary.

Dante grinned "that's what I like about you, you get straight to the point" charming.

The medic gave him a dry look.

Dante indicated to his mouth in a zipping motion, observing as the doctor checked Leon's blood pressure. The warden was in good health but he decided to attach an IV drip all the same, retelling. 

"Officer Kennedy will be able to file the paper work when he regains consciousness. Since you claim to be his family, I'm sure I have nothing to worry about".

Dante hopped on the bed and uninvolved his shoes and bloodied top, indicating to the juicy drip. "I will have what he is having doc" remaining to be a nuisance.

The consultant was stumped by his nerve but hooked him to a drip grudgingly. Dante refreshed one arm behind his head as if he was in a five star hotel. The bed was comfy, warm, and he could even spread his legs to his heart's content. Definitely not missing the shitty dark cells, he smiled opportunely.

"Probably better than eating the prison food and I can get a decent shut eye", grateful for the meal and bed.

The bushed doctor glanced at his watch it was almost 6 p.m. These prisoner's would likely sleep through the rest of the night and judging from their pitiable conditions he wouldn't be sending them to their individual holding cells. Uncountable men had committed suicide behind these bars. The guards were callous and desensitised. Cases of prisoners being abused or neglected were common practice, particularly those suffering from mental illness. Finding young men desperately cutting their throats with razors and toothbrushes had left him unable to sleep at night, feeling accountable for not doing enough, eyes wandering towards the demanding one with eccentric hair. He most certainly had some skill with first aid and general medicinal understanding, speculating how someone so gifted had ended up behind bars. The doctor contemplated Leon next.

"If I remember correctly this is his second day on the job?" Smiling, "I think you should commend a change. Your cousin isn't matched for this work and as for you…please do consider alternative venues into medicine, it's never too late to start anew" hopeful.

Dante upraised, "I'll talk him out of it doc and y' know I love my chosen career" what could be better than being a privileged devil hunter? He had no plans on leaving his much-loved occupation, lying down, "good night" gently sloping to one side.

The doctor was left confused by the reply but decided to call it a day, locking the doors behind him, heading into his office down the linking corridor. He had form-filling and paperwork to complete about the men in his care. It was going to be a long night.

Dante made sure the coast was clear and removed the drip. He rose sneakily from his bed and crept towards Leon, climbing aboard the single bed positively not catered for their lofty frames, managing to make space. The red devil raised the strappings to note all bruises and nail marks were absent. Checking the slashes on his lips and inside his mouth which were also cured, pleased with his generous work he slipped his arm under Leon's head and copied his chaffed lips.

"Am curious to find out what you taste like but it's more fun when you're awake and repelling", securing the vulnerable blonde into his body and curling a leg over, reviewing his locks. 

"Hope it stops growing white, I have a thing for blondes". He traced his jawline with his muzzle and detached the drips from his forearm to nestle properly. 

"Who would have thought me and you would end up in bed together" pinching a warmish cheek, "luckily for you I'm a gentleman".

Truth was...he was feeling pooped and needed a decent nap. Leon was the perfect pillow and he dozed off in record time, coming to, when he felt warm liquid amid his jaw and neck, he smeared his face and glanced at his sticky hands. The room was utterly obscure since it was almost 3 AM, demonic senses adjusting to the meagre light and he had a good look. It was blood. The entire bed was drenched in gore. The source was the one he was snuggling.

"Leon" staggered.

The stitches had come undone from the pressure of the increasing wound that had been inflicted by Nero's teeth, wide open. Dante ripped the dressings on his torso. He wasn't draining from anywhere else. His blood should have healed all his injuries, heart vying at the fact that he had been losing blood for hours. Leon's skin was fatally pale, he checked his pulse…he barely had one.

"Don't you fucking dare!?"

Slashing his wrist Dante tilt his head backwards and drained his blood, his fingers guiding its current, free hand curling about his neck and pressing. Minutes passed but the blood wouldn't stop gushing from Leon's flesh, his hands and skin inundated. Dante clogged when his chest stopped rising, resting his head above his heart; even without his demonic hearing he knew it had ceased beating, gritting. Dante lifted Leon's dangling figure and lay him down on the floor. He roared, bidding his devil, the force of his rapid transformation sending the bed crashing towards the desk.

One of the ill-fated prisoners awoke, startled by the racket, rubbing his sleepy eyes to find a red and black devil suspended over a dead body, halting a whimper from fleeing his frightened mouth. It was Satan. Pulling the covers over his eyes and lowering them…he couldn't look away. The petrifying devil from hell raised its yellow talons. Red flames shaped inside his sweeping palm. The man viewing soiled his pants when they were surged onto the dead man's neck, roasting him, feeling the high temperature from where he was lying, squeezing the sheets as the corpse was pushed into this things body to be chewed.

A slinky tongue licked the dead fella's collar for sampling. Was this thing a vampire? He shook, that's exactly what it was, revealing its fangs, snarling and biting its mouth, blood spurting and dribbling down its blasphemous neck and onto the lifeless body curled in its grips. The vampire thingy lowered above the man's mouth, its tongue winding inside...blood…so much…blood, gulping. It was ghastly to watch and he was next…weeping inaudibly he started to beg for his life calling Jesus Christ when the Devil's black wings constricted and absorbed the dead guy that had resembled a sleeping kid caught in its arms. He was going to die…just like…wheezing, suffering from a panic-attack and gratefully passing out.

Leon could receive the pounding of a tremendous soul. He had heard this sound before and felt this heat, trying to passage his unresponsive fingers but he couldn't move. Wings grazed his face. If he didn't open his fading eyes...he would never get a second chance, licking his damp lips to the taste of metallic medicine. Was it blood? Warm sturdy respires blowing above his lips, coarse tongue urging and prodding his mouth as it passes inside to feed him its own life-force...drink...thrusting and spouting dripping tonic...he was being coerced to swallow…tasting…savouring.

Leon pried his heavy eyelids to find cerise eyes appraising him. This time, his hands complied. Fingertips trailed the puffing chest before caressing the wings. How badly he had wanted to texture them. So soft, so smooth, making him kind of envious, shaded a beautiful red, as if listening into his sentiments the cheeky devil widened their spectacular range, declaring their true size and righteous length…showing off…typical.

Leon grinned into awareness, "so...when do I grow a pair of these...or is it just the hair for now?"

The devil slowly sucked his tender neck in answer, sighing. The motion was soothing his scorched casing, pointy fangs scratching his skin as the devil rumbled beside his ear, the rhythms pulsing through his figure, eyes closing in comfort. The devil slurped his blood-spattered torso, that hot tongue both jagged and smooth slithering and sliding over his aching surface, scrubbing their combined plasma. Warm licks and flicks transpired about his face, even inside his tresses, grooming and cleaning. Leon passed out again and came to when he felt the devil's tongue pushing his mouth resolutely. He widened as it occupied and filled him, hot, wet and very, very teasing. Leon nudged and sucked the pointy tip as it withdrew. A mighty gush of airstream and two familiar arms were casing his body, the breathless voice imminent.

"I told you didn't I...I would protect you" taking all the credit.

Leon restored his head on his sweaty shoulder, "asshole, where the hell was you".

Dante chuckled, "on kitchen duty, but don't worry Vergil had a word with the kid, am sure he will knock some sense into him".

Leon lifted rapidly, "Nero he…made a mistake...something was wrong with him..."

Holding his head, "is it true you're leaving in seven days?"

Dante was ogling his neck. He poked it a few times to see if the flesh would rapture but this time it just happen to look raw, locating the cabinet with the clean towels to wipe his face. 

"We're leaving...am still hoping Verge will change the kid's mind about staying behind. He belongs with us". He met Leon's stare. "Truth is, we are devil hunters and only came here to make sure the kid wasn't a threat, turns out we both like him".

Leon hauled his white tresses to check their progress, luckily they hadn't spread. He wondered if it was Nero's flames and those dreams that would trigger their growth. He checked his mended chest.

"You have to take him with you...he wants to leave this place but is scared" concerned.

Dante glanced at the four sleeping men, "scared of what?" He had seen the look in Nero's eyes and already knew the answer but he wanted to be sure.

Leon paused, "of losing...us", it sounded crazy but it was the truth.

They both went silent. They had shared this fear equally.

Leon didn't know how to feel about the three of them leaving him behind. Was he truly a part of their world? They would have to part ways eventually…so why did he feel so…down.

Dante stressed "am beat, so let's just sleep already".

Gesturing towards the bed, "come on".

Leon rose slowly and strode towards him, retrieving the towel to clean his skin and face of any lingering body fluid. Dante was observing his every move.

"Do you...feel any different?"

Leon lay down, "I feel...no different" in a low voice. He rested one arm under his head. His body seemed to be feeling lighter and he was still dizzy but apart from that he was OK. Dante lay down beside him.

Leon shunted, "sleep in your own bed, what's wrong with you?"

Dante gripped his arms. "This is my bed…the bloody one over there is yours. By the way, had I not been sleeping next to you, you could've kissed your nice ass goodbye".

Leon shoved his face back with one hand, "am fine, so stop smothering me and what do you mean nice ass?"

Dante nearly fell off the small bed.

Leon was no pushover.

The devil held on, "can't you just take a compliment?"

Leon gave up. In all his years working with people he had never met someone so obstinate and utterly unaware of others need for space. He wondered who had spoilt him to this extent and could only think of one person...Vergil. He had seen the two together with his own eyes and had found it amusing at the time, since he wasn't on the receiving end. Dante was a pup alright...untrained, out of control, and irritating as hell…did he mention spoilt-rotten, oh yeah and that.

The said pup squeezed one eye open and patted Leon's head, "it's just a precaution, just in case anything happens to you but looks like you're fine" opportunely creeping closer.

The said needy pup's knees were digging into his, warm chest hard-pressed into his face. Leon tried to shift away but Dante held him cosier. Leon gave up, wiggling and turning over. Dante rapidly clung to his back pressing up against him. He sighed...and sighed again. Now he could feel his lips, hair, and breathes dipping into his sore neckline. Leon inched towards the edge of the bed, muttering in fatigue and Godly endurance.

"Did you really have to be the one to save me?"

Dante squeezed, "that was a real low blow, considering, I saved your life...twice", tapping Leon's chest twice with his hands which had somehow crawled above his midriff.

Leon was dreadfully tired, "stop breathing down my neck I can't sleep like this?"

Dante pulled him into his chest and rested a heavy leg over his, "it's safer to sleep together, considering what we just discussed" finding reasonable excuses to justify two adult men nuzzling.

Leon couldn't breathe, "I think you will be the cause of my death Dante" he almost yelled out of character.

Dante bit his earlobe making him jolt, "first time you said my name aloud, sounds kind of sexy from your angry lips", galling, "did I say you might be my man crush?"

Dante had been trying his best to show some restraint owing to Blondie's fragile state but now that he was feeling better, playing with him was his favourite pass time and main priority. Sleep forgotten. Leon didn't strike back and went noiseless. Dante eyed him distrustfully. Maybe, a surprise attack would ensue if he let his guard down. Minutes passed and still nothing. He was putting him on edge. Dante tapped and was promptly ignored. Something was definitely wrong with this picture. Leon turned around suddenly, Dante's face flushed...he was just toying and hadn't anticipated his opponent to be so calm under pressure from his sexual provocations or harassment as it was rightly termed.

Leon protested slightly, "it won't stop burning. Do something".

Dante was reassured, "I had to use my demonic flames to heal your wound, should be fine by morning. My tongue contains ointment so to speak...want me to lick it more?"

Leon gripped his chin...his eyes widened, "your skin it's...glowing. Why is it glowing?" He moved closer and gripped Dante's hair whose brows creased in muddle, "your hair is...blonde and your eyes…they", peering, "are white", obdurate silence ensuing to the rhythmic flow of a loud ticking clock.

Dante clogged on his saliva and thumped his chest, coughing. Unable to meet Leon's gaze, he swiftly turned over. It could be there were some probable side effects to their sanctified blood. Why did Vergil always have to be...right? He had shared his blood in his devil form, meaning the potency was...doubled since his devil-trigger regenerates their wounds faster...fuck. Dante had headache thinking about all the things that could have gone wrong in this here scenario. Moaning, knowing he would need assistance from Vergil who was his teacher and guide on all things demonic. 

Dante crept closer to his allocated edge to create distance for the blonde in hopes he would nap. Leon's intense stare was burning into his spine and Dante kept his big mouth shut to avoid engaging, covering his body to signal siesta. A slight dip in the bed and he discounted it, but he couldn't overlook the trickling sound as if someone was taking a leak in the room. Dante opened his eyes to view. Leon had ripped the IV bag and had spilled the contents and was now inspecting them like a true CSI cop.

Dante leaned on his elbow and smiled a phoney smile, "ah…Blondie, what y' doing"?

Leon turned around, interested eyes fixated on the nice lump that had moulded his brawny arm. Dante felt awkward for the first time. There was something odd in the way Leon was looking at him and he enclosed his sensual body automatically.

Leon blinked, "it was falling in slow-motion, the fluid. I could see each drop and actually touch it before it fell" he bent and swirled the fluids with his fingers for further analysis. "Is this how you see the world Dante and can move…without obstruction?"

He gazed slowly around the room, "the world slows down, right?"

Dante mounted, enfolding an arm round Leon's waist and lifting him off the floor. Leon gripped his shoulder as he made his way back to the bed. He laid him down silently and settled on top of him, pinning him under his unmoveable body. 

"See, me and you both have had a rough day, am feeling wrecked so let's talk about this in the morning" softly weary.

Leon was quiet. He was still inspecting the fluid on his fingers but made no move to get away from Dante who stared at the blood on his skin. "Truth is…I'm worried about you, second time you nearly died on me", feeling fault.

He relaxed both elbows on the sides of Leon's head who met his gaze. Leon laid his arms to the sides of his body now that Dante was back in view for closer examination. The red devil heaved a moan when he noticed a mark had transpired on his neck. It was all too familiar…the colour of his devil, red and black, the shape, his wings of course. What the hell had he done now!

Spilling, "I want you to forget about all of this and go back to a normal life but it looks like I keep fucking things up for you" he smiled but it never reached his worried eyes.

Leon's hands clasped his shoulders in contradiction. Dante stilled, he wanted to know what exactly was going on in the blondes intoxicated head. Leon silently travelled his bare flesh with his fingertips, his hands fluctuating about his strapping chest with allure and intrigue, studying the dips, the ridges and bends of his graceful body. His warm hands climbed up to his face and copied his lips, cheekbones, nose, before sliding through his hair…making the one receiving the special courtesy close his eyes in resignation.

Leon confessed "maybe, I want to be a part of your world Dante" intent.

Dante gripped his hands and met his eyes. They were unruffled. Yet it was unlike Leon to be so submissive, "you're definitely not yourself so let's sleep on it" he collapsed on top of him making the other rasp.

Leon wouldn't be able to lift his weight and thus was going nowhere "high" on his blood and likely marked by his devil. Yet his difference of opinion had made him feel less guilt-ridden. The guy always knew what to say even when delirious, must have learned it from being a cop and dealing with insane people most days. His own fingers wouldn't stop stroking his neck, where he had left his disconcerting mark. He prayed to God it would disappear. Blondie maybe be feeling the good effects of his blood right now but when they begin to wear off he knew he would have a lot to answer for. He covered Leon's eyes with his hand hoping he would fall asleep and stop gaping at him.

On the contrary, Leon was wide-awake and absolutely riveted. Dante's body was stimulating his fingertips and was vibrating golden. He had only dropped the glucose to test his theory that he was seeing the world from his eyes, having shared his blood. Everything was magnified and warped…a little breathless and overwhelmed by what he was silently experiencing…but he wanted more.

Leon unseeingly touched Dante's locks and could feel their palpitating vigour. It was remarkable. The vivid colours, the intensified sounds...the sheer magnitude of a metamorphosed world. Leon leaned into hear his respires, every time Dante puffs, he could see the shimmer in the air, even behind closed eyes, blindly locating his shoulders to sightsee his wings that were veiled under his flesh. There was something else here…weapons…he could overhear a prevailing knife-edge singing Dante's name and almost stroke the cool silver of two characteristic handguns that were itching for their master's trace. These were fused within his devil which had given him the kiss of life. Leon's hearing strengthened and he could now receive the disjointed voices and murmurs of all the damned prisoners. He thought he could catch someone's indignant screams. This jail was full of them but these yells were towing at his heart. It couldn't be Nero for he was in Vergil's safe hands? How could he doze in this higher state of being?

Dante lifted, "Blondie, if you're going to be this twitchy I might have to throw your ass back on the other bed". He huffed and snuggled back on top of him, burying his face into his nape where he had made his mark.

Leon continued to rub his mane. He had never noticed how striking Dante's features were. The devil was very good-looking and much cannier than he gave him credit for?

Clearing his throat, "your sword is...loud, I can't sleep".

As soon as the words left his mouth he felt Dante amend their snoozing positions. This stint, he saw each effort, as it happened, despite the whirlwind speeds. Dante was propped back on the bed frame. Leon was inactive between his stretched legs. Dante yawned and licked his lips, arms compact around his torso.

"Rebellion, that's the name of my blade. It doesn't stop praising my name. Am so used to it I don't notice it anymore" chatty.

Leon smirked, "what about the two handguns" wanting more info.

Dante pestered "you were feeling me up Officer? Frisking me without my consent is felony y' know".

Leon modified "not a felony if the party is consenting".

Dante simpered, "Ebony and Ivory, my prized possessions and my preferred weapons for kicking demonic ass. It's our job to save the world from darker forces. I and Verge are celebs in the demonic empires. Like our old man...Sparda".

It had been a while since he had mentioned his father's name. He had never stopped missing his parents. Without them they had no home, another reason why the two of them had never settled anywhere. Dante had never given up hope that one day they would find their father. Sparda's presence had never left their lives. They both become quiet. They had shared these reminiscences. Leon's mind floated to the conversation he had with Nero. He felt uneasy.

"Are there demons inside this jail?"

Dante didn't know where to bring into being, "just watch out for a tall ugly broad by the name of Akira, looks like a crocodile…can't miss him".

He really didn't want to get into particulars about what he and Vergil had baked in the kitchen this pre-lunch. Blondie seemed to take things well but he was a softie and wouldn't take this brutality lightly. Leon rubbed the skin on his neck. It was sweltering. Dante saw and started to rub the place with his fingers.

Leon leaned into his touch, "does Vergil have a weapon?"

Dante's eyes lit up, "Yamato, it's the name of Verge's katana, it only ever whispers to him and in a demonic dialect that only he can understand. He hates guns…I reckon he likes to dissect everything personally", unable to conceal the love in his voice at the mention of his twin . "Verge is a beautiful fighter…he dances, makes it look like an art" smiling.

Leon assimilated, "I prefer knifes too, guns are pretty handy in this day and age though".

Dante dropped his chin on Leon's head, "I would show you the weapons but I spent my trigger and I really don't want to have a sword or gun coming out of my ass" considerate.

Leon laughed quietly, Dante didn't. Unlike Vergil he had never tried summoning his weapons in his human form and his rebellious arms had a mind of their own. He bent one leg and rested his head on the bedstead…it was almost 4 a.m., so much for sleep. Staying awake to keep a close eye on Leon whose conduct was random to say the least.

He glanced, "enough about me, how did you end up here of all places?"

Leon sketched Dante's thighs with both hands, his fine-looking face occupied in single-mindedness. It was Dante's turn to jump irrefutably from the uncanny contact. He had felt something at his caress, something blasphemous...down there. Despite all his preceding philandering, being this close to Leon was making him jittery. The blonde on the other hand relaxed his body into his as if this was everyday occurrence between them.

"My dad was a cop, wanted me to join the B.S.A.A. Failed the exam…twice" tapping Dante's thigh, double.

Biting his thumb "was killing time here until I could re-take the exam".

Dante recalled, "that serious guy with dark hair, he mentioned something about a tactical unit. Is that the same one?"

Leon exhaled, "yeah, Chris, already got promoted in the team, second in command and am stuck here", disenchanted.

Dante blew in his ear, "I think he has a thing for you and was giving me the evil eye".

Leon shook, "Chris is family, my best friend, think I was the one who pissed him off today" apologetic.

Dante cuddled to compete, "I'm your favourite…right Blondie?"

He knew Leon would say yes. The perplexing blood was transporting these repressed feelings and they wouldn't last very long. The blood would weaken from his body and vanish, that bloody mark on his neck however was sticky. Every time he fondled it, it was shining red under his touches. Dante knew it was only a matter of time before Leon strangled him since he hadn't discovered it yet. Leon was sniffing the nape of his neck and Dante decided that was where he should draw the lines. They switched positions for a second time. Leon was now sandwiched between his arms and legs as they lay side by side.

"Lights out" the devil shone.

Leon was observing him, muddled hair up in crazy angles where his devil had licked him. Dante flattened smoothly and he grew distrustful.

"What did you do to me?"

Dante's eyes broadened in hesitation, "I will explain everything tomorrow when I find out myself" clueless.

Leon scratched his neck in exasperation, eyes condemning, "you better".

Dante barred, "tomorrow, promise, I just need to check a few details with Verge first, wouldn't want to give the Officer wrong information now" light-hearted.

Leon shut his eyes without another word; he had enough of these games. Dante yawned noisily and tightened his hold around his figure. Testing all limbs were compactly secured so he couldn't escape, with that reassurance, he drifted into deep sleep…another long day. Leon opened his eyes. Dante's odour had reminded him of something. A moment in his life he had forgotten. Something valuable but he couldn't pinpoint what. His mind was only focused on the complex person in front of him. The alluring devil was all he could see, hear, and breathe, pausing to listen to Rebellion's humming of his master's name, he liked the mesmerising whispers. Whatever he was feeling was overriding him...immersed? Leon inclined into Dante's lips. Why did he want to kiss them so very badly…deciding to give it a try when his mouth was sealed by a segregating hand?

"Blondie, did I tell ya I hate it when people ruin my beauty sleep" unenthusiastic.

Leon converted, "I changed my mind, let's try that something...new" indicative.

He was evenly groping the lewd swelling that had materialised inside Dante's pants without his permission, owing to their close proximity and Leon's friendly touches. The hunter knew what he had to do in this situation before it could get grossly out of hand. Within seconds Leon had been safely secured and bound by the multi-purpose medical tape, wrists wrapped. Dante still didn't trust him and placed a substantial amount of tape over his mouth for added measure. Leon was still trying to understand what had just happened to him when Dante fondled him into his torso.

"Sorry but being your designated driver it's my job to ensure you don't do anything stupid or reckless under the influence of my blood", convinced it would be a mistake. Kissing his forehead, "your welcome" he really was a nice guy.

Leon made an "mmph…mmph" noise as protest.

Dante glided his bound hands around his neck, "Eva…that was my mother's name….Verge believes my scent is more like hers, so humans are drawn to me. When you sniffed me I knew it reminded you of something important, probably a person close to you or even a place. I have that effect on people and get chased by them" is closing the gap between their bodies.

Leon quieted and was listening attentively.

Dante finished, "Verge on the other hand has our fathers scent. This is why demons and devil's alike flock to him. He is the true heir to our old man's throne…in hell".

Leon grew drowsy. Dante knew he needed a time-out. The guy had been through one hell of a crazy day and he really didn't want to add more to his plate, but a little bantering couldn't hurt. He cupped Leon's drained face and kissed the tape, his tongue making circles and O's as he verified and bit on it friskily, his hands straggling Leon's well-defined trunk, pinching both nipples which hardened under his touch. He cropped one between his teeth, as his other hand discovered Leon's even stomach, plunging onto his dipping hipbones, ill-disciplined fingers trying the waistband of his pants, halting deviously when Leon hardened between his legs...contented with his immoral work.

Dante chuckled, "serves you right for giving me a boner, now we both can suffer together, hot and bothered", thrusting his hips for additional impact.

The red devil had never imagined that he would have such a grand opportunity to lay Blondie and throw it away. Verge wasn't the only one going soft it seemed, "oomph" the demoralising impact. Leon had kneed him ruthlessly in the groin for his bastardly exertions. He had felt that blow; Blondie had strength possibly power-driven by his effective life-blood. Dante evened the score by eradicating the tape unfeelingly from his entrance and they ground in joint agony.

"Bastard" Leon grit, licking his throbbing lips. The tape had nearly torn his skin off.

Dante was still clutching his aching balls, "I guess...I may have deserved that", muffled words of pain came behind Leon's chest.

That was when he heard the padlock on the door. His devil side could sense the impending danger. Leon had also detected. Dante slithered his arms around his stomach and sat up. Their questioning eyes never left the exits.

The doctor slipped his keys out of his jacket pocket to perform his nightly rounds when he heard footfalls behind him. Robertson was heading his way, accompanied by four other guards. He didn't particularly like to deal with this impervious man. Since his arrival he had done nothing but butt heads with him because of his maltreatment of convicts. It was almost 5 a.m., conjecturing what the warden was still doing here.

Receiving, "Officer Robertson, how may I help you?"

Robertson tested the door, "I heard the four men are still in your care despite my clear instructions to have them quarantined. They could be a serious risk to themselves and others".

The medic unlocked the room and clicked on the fluorescent lights petulantly.

"As you can see these men are..."

He was shot point blank range to the back of the head, figure slumping to the floor. The four guards walked with composure towards the occupied beds. They shot the sleeping men execution style, with silenced handguns, dragging the bodies and heaping the dead. Robertson studied the blood on the unfilled crib, he signalled. The guards investigated the entire ward. They didn't find anyone else.

"Burn their bodies in the yard and meet me on the roof", the briefings.

The four men dragged the carcasses away.

Robertson struck a cigarette, "back to war than" wafting.


	17. Chaos

Vergil regarded the profligate ball room, the marble a decadent white, bouquets of duplicate florets ornament and spoor, four imposing crystal chandeliers are embellishing the magnificent structures, curving marble stairway, with a kingly carpet enthralling the lavish scene. All the men dressed in expensive black tuxedos, the women in equally dazzling silk gowns, observations on no occasion straying far from his parents as they swayed. The spacious chamber is filled with effervescent movement but his deceptive discernment's evaluate only them…with a look of unreserved revulsion. How was it that a devil from the scorching pits of hell would grow accustomed to living like a mere human for the sake of another? Vergil had pondered whether he was more like his father? The contrast was laughable...he was nothing like Sparda.

A live Orchestra was assembled to play classical music, fifty violins overwhelming his earlobes, the perfect sound for these everyday parties which they had to attend on a systematic basis. It seemed, his parents liked to keep modish exteriors. It was expected of them. Being rich automatically grouped you under a separate hierarchy where useless banter, etiquette and social grooming were the focal point of your very existence. It was a dull affair, his mind pleasuring the idea of Yamato dismembering everything in his vision. To dye this white room a righteous red, to bathe these dull flowers in provocative colour, to hear their startled screams as melody when they beheld his true form. To watch their eyes widen in dread, to hell, fury, and wrath. To abolish their meaningless world and watch it crumbles and burn, to stand in the ashes of death and destruction, with extensive ecstasy. If only he could be, who he wanted to be?

Vergil attuned his bow. Even they were not exempt from these valueless communal gatherings and strict dress codes. Only thirteen, they had no business here. He was sipping water since only white champagne was being served. Red would stain the precious marble if spilled. The attendees clapped and bowed as the Orchestra took a break. Dante was still clutching a young girl with blonde hair, his hands slipping down her waist and groping her hindmost. The blushing girl whispered eagerly into his ear for his misbehaviours…cheap. Vergil assessed the shaggy unkempt hair, that cocky stance and enduring smile. He truly disliked the sight of his simple twin. Dante was more suited to be a whore in a brothel than a devil, taking his leave towards the secluded balcony when he was stopped by a timid voice.

"Excuse me…Vergil".

The young devil turned to address the pretty brunette, her dark hair curled and slack. Both hands clutched tightly together. She was nervous. Vergil could only assess humans by watching their movements. What they were thinking and felt was unconnected. She met his unfriendly stare. His eyes held contempt for having been interrupted. The girl adjusted her gold ball gown and requested quietly.

"Would you care to dance with me?"

Vergil's eyes appraised her diamond necklace and matching earrings. He looked up to find his parents watching and smiling from afar. Did they really think he would join them? Become one of them...to stifle his true self and embrace this ordinary human life. The thought made him lose his temper. Eyeing Dante who had managed to acquire alcohol having seen his parents momentarily distracted and downing with devilish speed. Vergil pointed towards the clown.

"My twin...over there...would be better suited for dancing with you" moderately voiced.

The disappointed girl rubbed her bare arms and stared at the floor.

Vergil was surprised by her actions. They were twins. What difference would it make?

"I….would like to dance with...you" her determined eyes held his stare. How brave.

Vergil stepped closer. He was unusually tall for his age, blessed by his father's demonic blood. The only true gift his father had bestowed on him, the most precious, Yamato. The devil inside him was his only confidante. The sense of freedom that came with embracing his carnal side was unparalleled. Life as a human could never complete him. Vergil didn't belong in this world, nor was he suited for it. Hell would have been a better fit, sliding strands of hair behind her ear delicately. The simpleminded girl blushed as he bent to break her heart. Girls were easy to scar. The way a mirror could shatter with stone. Appearance was everything to them and his choice of words punitive enough.

"Why would I want to dance with a plain girl like you"?

He assessed her face and body, "you're simply not good enough".

The hurt girl rapidly stared at the floor her mouth parted in shock and embarrassment as he strode past and entered the isolated gallery. The stars were beautifully alight in the sky, a luxurious garden with a winding maze beneath, critiquing the indistinguishable fountains with their statuette of three lions. The convoluted botanical gardens had caught his courtesy, curious. He was about to take the plummet to sightsee when he detected someone forthcoming.

Dante peered, "wanna check it out together..." words slurred, breathes reeking of alcohol.

The idiot was drunk.

Vergil unnoticed. He preferred not to engage Dante. He hated his company more than words could express. This diffident idiot followed him ubiquitously…like a plague, wondering why his imprudent brother couldn't get it through his thick skull that he wanted nothing to do with him. The only exemption, when they trained together. Dissecting Dante had become his favourite pass time. Yamato desired his blood. Each night the katana would murmur to him beseeching for more. It had developed a thirsting for his little brother. The thought made him leer. Dante sat up on the ledge and discarded his bow tie, undoing his shirt.

"That's better...bloody bow is a nightmare Verge" brooding.

The blue devil gritted, for he hated being addressed this way. It felt intimate since no one else but Dante used this nickname.

Vergil restored his glass on the marble, "leave...I wish to be alone".

Dante took his cut-glass and guzzled the water, tossing it over his shoulder. It made a plop sound having landed in one of the classy water fountains, sprawling on the ledge he unfastened the other buttons, his bare skin floodlit by the cascading moonlight.

He grinned, "I like your company the most" up-front.

Vergil edged away. Dante would get bored and leave on his own terms. Trying to reason with him was pointless, stubborn. The red devil eyed the night sky, abnormally quiet. Vergil could still catch the sound of the melancholy violins as the party continued without the two of them. The sound of the spurting cascades beneath was more sedative. Vergil adjusted his demonic hearing to drown out the rest of the world, closing his eyes to his true self, his senses animated…eyes disbanding their human blue and revolving a garnet red. If only the aroma of blood could fill his lungs rather than the scented roses maturing in the heavenly gardens below. He didn't even know how long the warm fingertips had been drawing his tightened lips, leaving them prickly. Shocked, Vergil gripped the adoring hand in a mixture of annoyance and disbelief.

Dante murmured tenderly, "did I ever tell you...you're more handsome?"

Vergil turned away and decided to go back inside. He had never seen this calm and quiet side of his brother who continued hush. Dante grasped his wrist. The physical contact was a first. Vergil tried to get rid of these unbending fingers, nails ploughing, making his flesh rip but to no avail. Dante wouldn't let him go, pulling him closer.

Voice uncertain, "why do you hate me Verge?"

Desperate, "what can I do to change the way you...you look at me".

The clouds veiled the moon, secreting their bodies. The question was ineffectual and not worth considering, for the answer was unalterable. Dante slanted his face and locked his eyes, still gripping his wrist…waiting patiently for his answer. A sparkling crystal escaped his covers. Vergil caught it on the back of his palm. Dante was crying. How it was that one's passions could produce such a somatic response by the body? Why could he never accomplish such a feat? Tears left him envious. They were a sign of faintness but allied to what makes one so very human. One had to cry, to be able to feel. Vergil elevated his hand to inspect the costly substance spilled in his name, lowering it to his lips to palate the saline surface against his flesh...swallowing. Dante grinned at his peculiar action, laying his cold hand above his heart and holding it in place by entwining their fingers. Vergil felt Dante's heartbeats. It was the first time he had touched his brother's warm skin. It was an extraordinary sensation.

Dante murmured, "I won't remember this tomorrow but I want you to know" out of breath.

Vergil's eyes were fixated on his seeping tears, leaning over to observe their exterior. He wanted to see what he would have looked like…if he had wept. Dante shared his face. These painful tears wouldn't cease their flow…his fingertips trailed their descent, rapt. Dante's agonised face calmed under his touches, jaw divided, skin getting chiller from lying on the icy marble, unmoving to his fingers attentive examination. He sighed and wrapped the back of his neck with both hands. Vergil permitted the interaction and encountered the intent look engaged his way. Dante's concentrations held an undisclosed secret which he was passing. Something he had always obscured inside this stare. Vergil couldn't pull away, even when their lips grazed and scraped incessantly. The one forcefully holding his lips back from kissing them yearned.

"I…love you Verge, am fucking in love…with you".

The words that haunted Dante's heart had fled his lips. It was too late to take them back, scared.

Vergil stilled, Love? His brother had just confessed to him. He knew the words must be true, he had felt his heart beating faster, felt his hand shake, and heard the quiver and pain in his voice, riveted. His looking glass lay before him, weak, wounded, and hopelessly in love. Dante was everything he didn't want to be. He was the same as those two foolish people dancing inside that hall. Vergil would never allow himself to lay damaged before another. Love meant nothing to him, preventing mirth from leaving his lips at Dante's inane emotions. He had never imagined his brother would reach a new low. Only Dante could achieve such an unfathomable task and entertain him to no extent.

Vergil sneered "stay away from me Dante. I can't stand...the sight of you. Nor do I wish to hear such disgraceful words from your mouth". He wiped his fingers on his shirt, "you don't exist in my world and I wish to keep things that way".

Eyeing the red roses, "you mean nothing to me" derisive.

Dante released his neck gradually and turned his face. He flew down and landed on his hands and knees in his drunken state on the gravel pathway, stumbling towards the cascades. Dante knelt and splashed his face, white shirt, black jacket, drenched. Gathering his damp hands through his mane and lowering his head silently to view the waters and his heaving reflection. Vergil surveyed inquisitively. Dante's behaviour was anomalous. He had only spoken the actuality and wondered why his brother had responded this way. Dante slowly touched his face and sunk his head in defeat. Vergil felt a stabbing pain in his chest at the poignant movement, "Dante", the gut-wrenching call from above. The one wrecked below didn't turn to answer. Vergil felt a clawed hand enfolding his burning wrist, before the soft say.

"I remind you…of him, it's the reason why you came, for me?"

Nero observed Dante caringly, "or is it because of your father…Sparda that you came for me?"

Vergil turned to observe the ball room. He could see his parents still dancing together, his father's tall figure, eyes filled with passion for the one inside his arms as she matched his strides, his grace and sophistication. Eva was beautiful. Her long blonde hair in a fish plait, she was the only one wearing a remarkable red dress. The only one who had taken off her shoes and was dancing barefoot. Why hadn't he noticed these details before? The two were in love. It was the reason his father had chosen to change who he was…in order to be a part of her world. Everyone else clapped as the two kissed. Eva shook in mild blushing and whispered to her devoted spouse. Words he had never felt for anyone.

"I love you".

Eva peeped his way still holding Sparda's broad shoulders, her red lipstick bringing out her full smile, blowing a kiss his way. No matter how much he avoided her touch, she filled his heart with affection from far away. Eva understood him better than he knew himself. She had been the one to carry him in her womb, how could she not know his heart. Sparda rubbed the sweat from her forehead and kissed her hair, signalling to Vergil to come inside. This was his family. They had accepted him for all his shortcomings, his hostility, his self-centredness. How he wished he could dance with her now, just once, to take her in his arms as her son. Vergil had left it too late and only had himself to blame. How could he escape his cursed past? He had killed his mother. What he had lost and could never return to. It was Vergil's painful turn to watch his mother from afar.

"Eva" was his regret and sorrow.

How could he ever face his father?

Nero undid his cerise eyes and rested Vergil's hand onto his jaw, kissing his palm.

"Do I...remind you…of him?"

Vergil turned away from the youth and stared down the terrace. Dante was gone, rubbing his temples when he heard his brother's voice.

"I...mean nothing to you" whispered in despair.

Dante's tresses were raked equalling his, he was soaked to the skin. Those titillating eyes had lost all their radiance. The smile that drew others was carelessly wiped from his lips. Dante stood fragmented before him and he was the reason for his misery. The sight of his brother filled him with sorrow he had never felt for another. Vergil had done nothing but hurt the ones closest to him. He had never deserved their love, sliding off his jacket and wrapping it around Dante's shoulders, one hand cupping his cold cheek. He was the most precious person to him, his friend, his family, his heart and soul.

"Forgive me...I hurt you...it will never happen again" deeply repentant, freeing Dante's tresses with his traces, "this hair doesn't suit you brother" clutching the dripping strands.

Dante closed the distance between their bodies and kissed the corner of his lips, they were cold but his breathes scorching.

"You left me...I needed you" came the heartbroken reply.

Nero's gentle eyes met his, tears falling on his hands which were still holding his hair, "y-you left me to die...why?"

The teen inclined into his temples, "I needed you...the most and you left me".

Vergil had no answer for the tormented youth "forgive me" the unchanged say as he judged his father who had been right all along.

Nero cried, "I want to forget the feel of your warmth and these hands".

"To forget I ever met you".

A flock of black locust swarmed out of the estates, encompassing the ball room. Vergil watched his parents vanishing behind their filthy bodies. Eva's eyes never leaving his face as she extended her hand. Even in her last moments she had held these out to him. Vergil had always refused her touch, until her last breathe, heart descending at the hurt he had caused his mother. Nero kissed his lips for the last time and took an undecided step away.

"I thought I could run away but you're everywhere I go and in everything I have felt and seen". The tortured teen snarled, "a constant reminder of why this world should burn by my hands". He stared up at the heavens, "merciless, cold, and cruel...you're no different from the world that has constantly…punished me".

Eyes etched black, "I hate you" he whispered.

"I fucking hate you...the most Vergil" wounded.

The elder could see Nero's flesh rippling as locust hovered out of his mouth. The youth fell to his knees, devil arm misplacing its light, whirling black. The last rays of hope he had been holding in his heart doused by the unreceptive gusts of winter, his human side finally cracked and dead. What lay now was untainted hatred he had fostered over the years.

"I hate you" he whimpered, angelic face carved in fury.

Nero slammed his fists, pounding the ground, again and again. The entire mansion was about to collapse. A snaking crack divided the spiral staircase. The chandeliers fell from the roofs, the glass devastating into a million pieces. Vergil lurched back and was plummeting. There was no ground here. Nero was plunging beneath him, eyes closed, hair gusting in the breeze from his limitless descent. Vergil didn't want to repeat his past. The deserted teen had come to remind him of Dante, the period in his life where he had savagely torn his brother's heart. Sparda's trusts and believes would never go unreturned. Call it chance, faith, or blind conviction. This time, it was Vergil's hands which reached for the falling youths.

"Nero" was the quiet demand.

The adolescence widened his blue eyes, human hand extending for the fingers he was longing for. Vergil had always detached his hands and punished Nero who had never retaliated. Even now, his eyes were bursting with desire to be closer to him. He didn't want to destroy another soul who had gazed upon him with emotive depths that he was only just beginning to comprehend. Nero's fingers brushed against his but he couldn't reach his hand in time. It was too late.

"Vergil", he heard Nero call his name as he lost sight of him.

The said devil's eyes unlocked, he turned over in bed, "how long do you intend to watch me sleep from the shadows...demon" aware.

Akira came and stood in front of his cell. He was dressed in an orange jumpsuit, a black gas mask covering his face. He slid it off but his hair got caught. He cursed loudly as it got tangled and pulled in the process.

"What a bitch" he whined loudly.

Vergil bowed a brow and sat up, having decided to sleep on the lower bunk. Nero had used his bed. He had found the hybrids blood and tears on his pillow, remorseful and worried for the fledgling. Vergil had to find out if he was still alive and had already made up his mind to abandon any further good conduct. It was time to abolish this prison and any evidence of their stay here. The prisoners had already been taken care of. His brother would never know how heartless and punishing he could truly be.

Akira sat cross-legged, "I didn't mean to wake you."

Blushing, "I really hope I don't come across as a Peeping Tom".

Romanticising, "you're my first love, every time I lay my eyes on you my heart flutters, it's a wonderful feeling". Glancing at the other cells, "you will be happy to know the men are dropping like flies. It looks as if the effectiveness of my blood was too strong for their fragile bodies. Most are dead, others taking their final breathes. They won't see another sunrise...it's sad to lose them like this…but oh well".

Eyeing Vergil's body "they will change soon enough and you can have your fill", immodest.

Vergil contrived unawareness, "fill of what"?

Akira tsk, "come now, who knows your heart better than I?"

He chortled, "you knew those four men were infested by my blood and virtually condemned everyone else here to their horrid passing. You were their judge, jury and executioner, time to reap the rewards, eh?"

Repossessing his mask, "chaos, destruction, and death, will reign supreme here. Your gluttonous blade has grown hungry but nothing compared to your appetite".

He applauded, "you belong in hell Vergil. The throne your father has abandoned awaits a new prince and only you are worthy enough to take his place", puckering, "living like a tamed dog doesn't suit you…just for the sake of that jackal".

Akira retold, "sooner than later you will part ways...it's your destiny. The two of you were never meant to be".

Vergil reared and splashed his face, "aren't you afraid of what I intend to do to you?"

Akira twirled his locks, "I...intend…to find out as long as you are the one deciding my fate. I won't give up so easily. You're worth the fight" undeterred.

Clasping his hips, "the jackal really is oblivious to your inner desires but me I'm not".

Wriggling his hips side to side, "I want to give you my...all".

Vergil stared at his reflection in the small mirror and slid his hands through his hair. Making sure not a single strand fell back on his face. "You wish to destroy everything you have worked so hard to build. Rather generous conduct for a greedy demon".

Akira skated on the mask, "you told me yourself I have spent too long with humans and have forgotten my true nature". His voice echoed. "The first time we met your eyes reminded me of what I have been missing by keeping myself confined here. I wish to see the world, again".

He dusted his jumpsuit, "I have made the provisions to create a stimulating playground for your entertainment. Just a small taste of what I can offer you, if you take me by your side...my dark prince" he hankered. "Imagine what we can achieve?"

Vergil turned around and called to his beloved, "Mato".

The blade ripped through his wrist. The pain exquisite as it carved its way out of his flesh. "Vergil" it carolled his name, having waited long-sufferingly for this instant to arrive, to satiate their thirst for blood as one, to demolish his master's foes and deliver death in his supreme name. The definitive tool of wreckage had just awoken.

Akira stepped back wisely, "well than, let us start this chase of cat-and-mouse, without further ado".

Vergil wasn't paying attention, waiting for Yamato to reach his hand. He lifted it and trailed the unsympathetic steel with his fingertips, cutting them, staining the traditional gold ribbon attached to the hilt with his bloodletting, leaning his head as his eyes bowed crimson, "shouldn't you be running?"

Akira gave him the peace sign, "I was hoping you would save me for last".

Vergil sliced Yamato through the air. The cuts resonated throughout the cell. The bars diced. Akira gazed down from the ceiling he was clinging to on all fours, fanning his face with one hand.

"My lord, can a man get any sexier. Being chased by you is thrilling to say the least." He crawled across the ceiling to a safe distance, "the hunt for a wolf is better than the actual kill, so I have heard".

Vergil stepped out of the cell and stood in the middle of the corridor. 12 guards were lined up in riot gear. Akira jumped down from the ceiling and vanished behind them. He waved at Vergil as they beat their shields with rods, the battle cry drumming through the corridors.

Vergil's discontent apparent, "is this it?"

Four of the men lowered their shields and stooped. Four rocket launchers were squarely aimed at him by the guards standing behind them. They shot these in unison and knelt before the explosion could pelt them, shielding their bodies. The four guards behind them scattered a barrage of rapid-fire from their machineguns. It was indiscriminate, the sound ear-splitting. Vergil side stepped the launchers. They all missed his body and bombed the wall behind him sending large pieces of debris hurtling through the air. He spun Yamato and swerved the rapid-fire. The shells rebounded in all directions. Three men kneeling in the front row met their ends with shots to the head. The forte of his rapier had repelled with such force the shells had penetrated their toughened armour.

Vergil paced to slay the remainder with affluence. Three of them dropped their riot shields and tried to flee. Spectre blades impaled their hearts before they could take another step. Some of the men were replenishing their guns when Yamato divided their heads clean off. The remainder cut down in one lithe vertical strike. Vergil flicked his wrist and the blood splatter winged off his unforgiving blade. All combating bodies buckled. Blood spurting from their necks and trunks as the room cleared of dust, smoke and life. Vergil removed the helmet from one of the dead men. They were all mortals. They hadn't been infected with Akira's blood. What had the demon been thinking? That was when he heard a static sound. The walkie-talkie attached to the slain man's body was going off. He picked it up and received the call.

Akira emitted, "how was it you sexy brute?"

Vergil took in the bloody scene before him, "dull" the honest reply.

Akira clacked his tongue, "oh honey, don't be so disheartened. They are just the meat for my babies. Thanks for marinating them."

He licked his lips, "I knew you would do a splendid job, ever considered a career as a chef?"

Vergil sneered as he heard a loud buzzer going off. The doors to the lockups sailed open. A new calm eroded the old prison as he heard footfalls and low growls behind him. The prisoners were stirring, drawn to the scent of fresh kill. The parasite that had been feasting on their insides had already drained them to the last drop. They needed a new host. Vergil turned around as the passageway slowly filled with the dead and decaying flesh. Eyes enflamed, mouths blood stained from spluttering plasma, spittle dripping down their chins as they picked up his scent. Starvation rocked them. Vergil's blood was an eternal potion unlike any other. Some of them went down on all fours to sniff and taste the air, their ravenous and crazed eyes neurotic over the source.

Akira hit the elevator, "please be careful. Best not to let them drain you...I wouldn't want you to be tired before we meet again and my babies won't be so easy to kill." He waited but there was no reply, "I know you're a tricky catch. Being their mother I can't let them go hungry. We need fresh human meat and I'm making the necessary arrangements?"

Akira heard a crackle and he knew Vergil had discarded the device. "He really is cold I wanted to give him a kiss as my over and out...oh well", he tossed the walkie-talkie and opened the steel door to the rooftops.

Four guards were standing with Robertson who was waiting patiently for his arrival. His pet was loyal to the core. Robertson chucked the cigarette on the floor.

Akira ran to cuddle him, "have they arrived?"

Robertson placed both hands on his shoulders and directed him to the spot. He couldn't understand what he was saying though the mask. The four guards had already removed a chunk of railing and barbed wire. Akira peered down and could see them parked up. Three large news vans with three bored looking reporters and cameramen were enjoying coffee. He hopped in excitement nearly losing his footing.

Robertson stabilized, "as advised by you we have informed them that the jail has been overrun by prisoners and a hostage situation is in place. They will be sending a rescue team. They have no choice", keen, "you're up next to verify the reports".

Akira raised his mask, "wonderful", kissing the warden feverishly as the observing guards looked away. Robertson bound his waist and joined in the warped caress. Akira broke their kiss and bit into his finger, applying a flat line over the imperfection as his blood leached inside the cut.

"I know this is what you want…war" illusive.

Robertson fondled his scar, "it's the only thing I know" movingly kissing Akira, their hips crushing and grinding, much to the outlaws dislike. 

Even in his male form the degenerate warden had a hard-on. Akira let go before he could get carried away. He was only providing the spur to hearten his pet to work harder. He could care less if he ended up dead in the process. Only Vergil could please him now and he would have to find a way to get rid of Robertson eventually.

Coaching, "my blood will also discourage my children from taking a bite out of you, so don't be afraid to hunt the twins in their midst". He kissed the scar, "remember, the younger one is bait, we need him alive to contain the unruly wolf".

Robertson obeyed, "I won't let you down", slipping his lighter inside Akira's hands.

The warden left to make the obligatory arrangements. Any outsiders that dared to enter this cage would be doing so under his authority. No one would be getting out alive. Akira watched him leave, sadistic eyes appraising the guards next, giving them excited thumbs up.

"Who wants to go for a ride?"

Three of them stepped backwards. The one who had been too slow to react was elected.

Akira tittered, "looks like you're the chosen one".

The male reporter checked his watch. It was almost dawn. They had received a tip-off that the jail had been overrun by prisoners. Several news channels had been given the same false information. They received numerous bogus calls but this one had seemed legit. The details had been explicit from the anonymous caller and all realistic. They had been duped and it was time to pack up. He scratched his head and dropped his coffee to a loud bang. The other news reporters flinched and stopped chatting, their eyes followed the red trajectory of a flare gun that had been fired from the roof and was now lighting the dark horizon.

A spotlight was cast on a tall convict clad in an orange jumpsuit, hiding his identity behind a mask. The con peacefully waved at them, the gesture unnerving and sinister, abruptly halting the friendly signal when all eyes and cameras were squarely fixed on him. What happened next would haunt him for the rest of his life. A terrified guard was handcuffed into place and doused in petrol. They could hear his gut-wrenching cries for help from where they stood. The con shaped a lighter in his hand and held it up exaggeratedly, forcing the terrified guard to go down on his laps before the edge. The victim had nowhere else to go. The convict flipped the lid and pitched. The guard was struck on the chest and set ablaze. The con kicked his body over the verge and they watched his petrifying flight from the roof, hitting the ground with a disturbing thud. Body burning, the smell of his burnt skin made another reporter spew her coffee. They all stood traumatized…the chilling man in the orange jumpsuit was gone. This was going to be breaking news.


	18. Time

Chris assembled in bed. It was almost 7:00 a.m., oversleeping and running late. Heading in for an express shower, obviously in need of a shave and a break, neither of which he had time for, extracting his typical black pants and grey shirt, in two minds about exhausting a tie and deciding to go without one, too drowsy to care. Hurrying downstairs and switching on the TV. Sleep hadn't quite fixed his cranky mood having spotted "sweetcorn" in the fridge, sighing and rubbing his growth as his opinions straggled back to the conversation he had with Leon and the doubles, flicking through the channels to discourage his a.m. blues by tuning into world news, discovering the expired juice when his ears picked up the acquainted tag, "Black Gate Prison". Bracing the controller Chris turned up the volume, his eyes denying what he was physically seeing.

"We are reporting live outside the prison. The inmates have made no additional demands but a SWAT team has been dispatched to rescue the hostages."

"There is mounting pressure from family and public to rescue the staff of Black Gate Prison."

"No further casualties have been reported".

The screen switched to a male reporter, "thank you Michelle. We will continue the report right after this commercial break".

Chris altered the channel vacantly.

"The widow of Warden Smith has confirmed it was her husband who had been brutally murdered last night. The warden was set on fire and hurdled to his death, on what has been described as one of the most shocking crimes caught on camera".

A picture of a young man zoomed across the TV screen. What followed made him drop his glass, "Leon!"

Chris clutched his coat, his figure moving mechanically. He didn't even remember if he had locked up as he got in his car, switching on his interior emergency lights mounted to the dashboard of his unmarked vehicle. The rigorous blurting rushed through the quiet district signalling his plight. The lights blinking blue as he scorched the exhausts, the journey a distortion. Civilian vehicles moving out of his way or slowing down to a complete stop, fearful they were being pulled over. His mind could only picture the lingering image of the executed man. It could have been Leon. The penitentiary he had convinced his friend to join had turned into his death-trap. If anything happened to him…he wouldn't be able to live with the penalties. Chris reached his workplace to find journalists crowding the entries. Four of them rushed to his car enticed by his blaring siren and lights. It was a senseless frenzy as he got out. He had no time for this media circus and bottled his irritation. He hated dealing with reporters the most. Chris pressed past as they flung an onslaught of questions.

"Mr. Redfield, is it true that your department has lost contact with the two SWAT teams that were sent in this morning to release the hostages?"

A male reporter blocked his path, "there have been speculations that the prisoners were abused and neglected. What are your thoughts on the matter?"

Chris shoved the microphone out of his face as a middle-aged woman hurried to his side "is it true that the Governor has specifically requested the S.T.A.R.S unit to quarantine Black Gate?" He ignored her and she pressed "do you think this could be the work of radical extremist groups allied with Al-Khifla?"

Chris swiped his entrance card as they fenced him. Holding them back with his satisfactory frame, making sure the lock clicked red as he slipped inside. They pressed up against the glass, exhaling. This overwhelming reaction was exactly what the convicts had wanted. The killing, all though brutal, had been blatantly staged. That was what had bothered him the most. Somebody had tipped off the reporters, at the outset. They were at the scene of the crime before it even happened, premeditated. Taking the lifts to the 6th floor, eyeing his reflection, he looked distressed, adjusting his stance and composing himself before the doors could widen.

The entire bureau had become a bee's nest of activity. The handsets were incessantly ringing, people were whooshing past and he was snatched by Jill, managing to hang his coat as she directed him towards the meeting room where their team was currently assembled. Wesker was erected at the front of the room and Chris joined his side. The grating superior was garbed smartly in a tailored white shirt, trim waistcoat, and black pants, a pair of stylish spectacles flattering his outfit. Why had he chosen today of all days to look this scruffy in comparison? Wesker assessed him evenly and Chris knew this was going to be earnestly bad news. The only time they came together like this was when shit had hit the fan. Wesker's neutral voice quietened the anxiously murmuring room.

"Now that everyone is here, I would like to get you up to speed with the events at hand". His moulded jaw stiffened, "two of the SWAT teams that were called in from the department of internal affairs to diffuse the situation have mysteriously…vanished."

"They have lost contact with them at 06:05 as we speak."

Wesker accustomed his specs, "the criminals have made no demands but the anonymous call received to our office this morning has confirmed the SWAT team is...dead. They have demanded to send in a replacement squad…otherwise they will continue to kill the hostages".

The room quickly filled with mild tension. The SWAT line-up comprised of skilled officers, many with military credentials. They should have had no problems dealing with a small size riot. Even if the convicts had somehow assimilated weaponries they were untutored and non-compliant. Seconds passed into minutes as they assimilated the prospects. Wesker delayed good-naturedly for queries to be raised his way but everyone else was still handling the latest information uneasily. They knew if the reporters got a whiff of the SWAT team's vanishing the media hysteria would spiral out of control. This would mean immense pressure on their squad and subdivision to complete the task without failure.

Wesker updated, "we have been given the go-ahead to instate a rescue operation over the next 24 hours. You are all to read the mission briefing which I will circulate after this meeting. Our main objective is to free the hostages and secure the premises, with the use of force. All firearms have been permitted" added with substantial approval.

Droning the strategy, "the mission will be no different from our customary hostage situations. Jose's team will attack the building from all sides, instantaneously, to create terror and confusion among the prisoners. My team will enter from the roof. We will be responsible for getting the captives out, safe and sound".

Astute eyes evaluating, "the missing SWAT team entailed 15 armed with flameproof coveralls, body armour, tear gas, and 9 mm browning's, as back up. The likelihood that they are dead or have been taken as hostages is becoming more credible".

Wesker looked sideways, "Chris is there anything you wish to add?"

Chris eyed the room. Their complex team followed his and Wesker's every directive, uncritically. Their lives were entrusted to the two of them. They had family, friends, and homes to return to. It was their job to make sure they all came back in one piece. They were his accountability and up till now he had never lost a single member of his crew in any operation, no matter how hard-hitting or implausible the task was. They were specialists and could handle the prison scenario with ease but that didn't mean they would go unprepared, stepping forward, all business, when it came to his field of work, setting all previous emotions aside. They had a job to complete and that's what he had to distillate on. They were going to jeopardize their lives, like they always did…even if it was personal for him…underlining with passion.

"We will be breaking down the penitentiary. I want you to study every corridor, lock, and block. It will make the difference between life and death. All or most of the prisoners are in for violent crimes. They have nothing to lose and as per the reports this morning will kill without remorse" eyes gritty.

Everyone raised their heads. He could see the revolution in their eyes and body postures. Unlike Wesker, Chris could invoke raw emotion with just his voice.

"I want you to use all means necessary to protect each other. Remember, to keep in contact and stick to what has been briefed. We are relying on stealth to catch them by surprise" breaking it down, "the fewer the casualties, the better".

They all gazed at each other awkwardly. The news of the SWAT team's possible demise had left more than a fair share of palms sticky. They knew their groundwork for the next few hours would have to be flawless.

Wesker concluded "with that, I suggest you get to work".

Everyone stood sluggishly and started to make their way out of the doors.

Wesker turned to Chris, "we need to have a little chat".

Jill shut the door and switched on the projector. Chris could tell she had been working non-stop since she came in. Her blue blouse and grey trousers were slightly wrinkled, anxious eyes floating towards the clicking clock, the dial moving unfavourably. Time was ticking and every second was costly. What if something happened to Leon while they were still stuck here undertaking official procedure? Wesker snapped him out of his troubling musings.

"Take a look at this", said with a hint of anticipation.

Pictures of three black armoured trucks came into Chris's interpretation, who stared dubiously.

Wesker outlined "these photographs were taken off the motorway, two nights ago, close to the prison."

"A drop off I suspect…no wonder their so confident" heavily inferring.

Chris stood disbelieving, recalling the sign on the trucks. It was an emblem of a golden hawk. He had been the one following the leads on this particular case. They had been trying to track the private arm dealers responsible for transporting and selling illegal artillery. Money was power and war lucrative. The longer they fuelled a conflict with their smuggled weapons, the more money they made. There was no catch, for they despatched weapons to all sides, irrespective of what they were fighting for. Chris had learned that the entire operation was being run by a single man known only as the "merchant of death". The man was a phantom that could never be traced, no one had ever seen his face, yet his setups ran globally from Iraq to South America. But what the hell were these trucks doing near the prison?

Wesker solved, "we suspect one of the guards may be helping this...coup".

Jill sat down on the desk and plugged in her laptop, "I ran a background check on all the supervising personnel. Whoever ordered these trucks must have contacts in the armed forces".

Jill clicked the button and the image changed to a man with blonde hair and green eyes. Chris eyes pressed. He had personally met this man…Officer Philip Robertson. Jill stood and spoke quickly.

"He served in the military during the Vietnam War and was discharged honourably. We suspect that he is somehow linked with this drop-off, again, it's just speculation".

Chris asked the obvious question "can we track what exactly was being transported?"

Wesker and Jill stared at each other. She clicked another button.

"You name it, they have it" exemplifying.

The uncanny slideshow was ongoing with vivid pictures of launchers, bombs, hand grenades, machine guns, shotguns and much, much, more.

Jill stopped the slide and turned off the projector, "they even ordered military dogs, 10 Belgian Malinois. The list goes on. Whatever they have planned…is big and their ready" quietly impressed with the interesting cargo.

Chris propped a thumb to his lips. The explosives had caught his attention. They were all C-4's, highly stable, easily molded bombs. They wouldn't detonate, even when shot or exposed to fire. Only extreme heat would set these babies' off. The individual that had carefully chosen these specific arms had extensive knowledge and experience in handling weapons. It had to be Robertson. The information to the reporters, the anonymous calls, all pointed to him. Chris knew the merchant didn't just deal weapons for cash. The price varied according to the buyer. Every so often information exchange was enough. That's what worried him. Someone else inside that jail had the real power to secure such a large shipment, one of the gang members, feasibly.

Chris defined, "either way, we have no choice but to go in and put an end to this. Weapons or no weapons, makes no difference if we know what we're doing".

Wesker switched the projector back on. He flicked through the photographs and stopped on the next person in question. Chris was staring into the eyes of the man making his heart pace. Leon's image was cutting, those grayish blue eyes and dirty blonde hair casting over his frame.

Wesker explained "as someone close to you is personally involved. I feel that you shouldn't be a part of this specific operation. Private stress can often lead to ineffectiveness. As your Commanding Officer I have to take all necessary precautions to reduce failure and risk".

He smiled, "I hope you understand Chris, my job is to ensure we follow…protocol".

Chris was soundless. Jill knew he was angry, just from one glance. He was ready to detonate. Wesker had tact for winding him up and took pleasure in doing it. Chris had become resistant over the months. Brushing off the snide comments but this time she knew he had stepped on a nerve, the heat in the room escalating. Chris continued to stare at the photo, voice measured to hide his resentment.

"If you think I will sit back...than you got another thing coming", facing Wesker "I'm going…not you…not this department, not this God damn faculty is going to stop me", grinding his teeth on each word.

Jill stood in the middle of the two before things could worsen. She turned her attention to Wesker knowing Chris's mind was made up. She had never seen him so fiery, "we need a second in command. Finding Chris's replacement…at such short notice is impossible."

There was a moment of silence before the incompatible laughter.

Wesker was highly entertained by his frank feedback, "it was just a joke…you really are too serious". Removing his specks and cleaning with a small cloth, "surely the mission would be uninteresting if you didn't come along Chhrriisss, you are, after all, one of my best men".

Wesker wore, "let's begin the arrangements by going over the prison blueprint with Jose's team".

Jill pressed up against Chris when she felt his body edge. She could read his every effort before he made it. The minute he had walked in this morning, she knew he was on brinks. Wesker luckily left the room and she turned around.

"Want some coffee?"

Chris was still gazing at Leon's picture. Jill had never seen him like this. She switched off the screen and took his wilted hand, leading him out for a five minute breather. They headed into the vacant kitchen and poured the fresh brew, adding milk in hers and handing him the straight black. Chris stared at the mug and took it from her hands, sweeping her warm fingers.

"Thanks Jill" in a drained voice.

Jill was worried, slipping out of her heels. She sat up on the counter next to him as he tasted his coffee noiselessly. Smiling, she boosted her legs and wriggled her toes, trying her best to entertain him. Chris passed over. Jill pointed rebelliously. The gesture made him smile stingily.

"I get it" reluctantly giving in.

Chris lowered to one knee and glanced over his shoulder, checking the coast was clear. Getting caught would make him look bad, considering how much the others esteemed him. Taking her right foot hurriedly, he rubbed ineptly having had no prior experience on what was hypothetically an ongoing foot massage. During their previous mission Jill had broken her ankle. The triad they had been tracking undercover had found out they were cops. They had enough evidence on the group's members to implicate them for fraud, counterfeiting, and drug trafficking. They had ended up in a full on brawl inside a Chinese restaurant against 12 armed men. Chris had jammed his handgun for the duration of their scuffle. Jill had kicked the guy coming at him with a baseball bat, so hard, that she had practically taken off the luckless guy's head and her ankle in the course. Chris had felt answerable. Carrying her to the hospital bridal style hadn't been enough. The agreement was that he owed her a foot rub. He hadn't thought Jill would make good on their contract and collect so early.

"I hate wearing heels" the receiving client whinged.

Chris scoured the bottom of her heel. He didn't know what he was doing or why he had even agreed to this in the first place. Jill laughed noisily and covered her mouth. She tugged her foot away from his hands, unable to take anymore. Chris stared up and grinned, anger forgotten. He rested her foot on his knee and held her hands. Jill stepped and climbed off the counter.

"Thought that might cheer you up but the massage seriously sucked Chris. You owe me another one", she slipped on her heels using his shoulders to poise herself.

Chris differed, "I thought I did an OK job".

Jill varied, "with the amount of force you were applying I was worried you might break my toes".

Chris glowered and checked his watch. It was almost time to prepare. Until he was in that jail he would remain anxious. They made their way to the seminar room. Everyone was busy reading and conferring the assignment updates. Jose was making his way towards him. Almost 35 but didn't look a day older than 24, blessed with Latino good looks.

Chatting, "heard from Jill Wesker was being his usual ass self".

Chris's eyes fell on Wesker as he walked back into the room. The sight of him was making him peeved.

"You could say that" uniformly.

Jose turned a page, "he's not such a bad guy Chris...I heard he pulled a few strings to get us this case. They were planning on handing it over to the military after the SWAT let-down."

Chris sped-read the paperwork, "probably found something in it for him...that's all" doubtful.

Jose scratched his ear, "well, the clincher was Leon, mentioning him swung things our way. They knew our boys would work harder".

Chris traced the map of the prison, breaking it down, block by block. He had a visual of the premises thanks to Robertson.

"Knowing Wesker something else must have caught his eye".

Wesker wasn't the emotional type, renowned for being calculating.

Jose shrugged his shoulders, "I think he got a soft spot for you".

Chris gawked, bamboozled by the statement. He steadily eyed Wesker. They had been working together for almost a year but they barely got on. If they went out for drinks he would strategically steer clear of his superior. Possibly intimidated, the guy was hard to read. Wesker barely wore any expressions and only found any real amusement by aggravating him. Sadly, these were his prejudiced reservations about his boss that couldn't be improved or changed. Wesker met his watch attentively, even in the hurried strictures…their eyes linked. Chris avoided his stare, not wanting to be side-tracked.

Over the next four hours they painfully scrutinised every possible scenario. The pressure was on. They all headed into the locker rooms. The agonizing day had passed into night. Chris sat on the bench. Everyone was getting changed. The mood suddenly lifted. Now that they were primed they were ready to face anything. Chris garbed his black tactical uniform and ballistic vest, holstering his semi-automatic 9 mm handgun. The only weapon kept inside his personal locker, positioning his combat knife behind his vest and tugging on his heavy-duty combat boots, tightening the laces…ready. Jill came and stood in front of him. She was wearing an identical uniform but making it look good, hair in a high ponytail.

She smiled and re-checked her pistol, "you ready?"

Chris raised, "yeah, let's get the real equipment".

Jill revealed "we can always take their weapons" prepared.

His partner was just as dedicated as he was. Once they commenced a mission, it was their one and only undertaking. They knew the prison was stocked up and acquiring an assortment of weapons wouldn't be a problem. It would never come to that. They would be in and out in less than half hour. Jose slapped his back hard as he strolled past, opening his locker and garbing a gold cross, his good luck charm. They were all pumped-up. Chris could see it on their faces, the adrenaline coursing through his own veins…his body was set for the risky ordeal, mentally and physically. They collected their supplementary armaments to the sound of thunder and subsequent showers. Chris made his way outside with fiery comprehensions. They would always travel down this dark road together…knowing... they may never return. He watched the men come out, one by one. They all assembled in two lines, moving as one body, twenty in total.

Chris roared "remember nobody gets left behind" promising.

They all slapped their weapons in reply. They would be travelling in two black armoured trucks across the forsaken road which would lead them to their final destination. Wesker was upended beside the vehicles, clad in an all-black gear. Blonde hair drenched. Chris knew he had to set any personal differences aside. He respected Wesker as their Commanding Officer regardless of what he thought of him as a person. Chris caught up to him. Wesker checked his guns.

"They're ready" he stated to get his attention.

Wesker glanced in their direction, "let's make this quick and painless...shall we".

Chris whistled and the teams divided with supple precision. Jose led his men in the first armoured truck. Chris waited for his men to join the second. Wesker stepped in front of him and took the pistol holstered to his well-formed thigh, the motion weirdly friendly. Wesker pushed the magazine and dissected the bullets. Chris took it from his hands and clicked it back, his actions so crisp they were almost mechanical. The fluent move made his boss smile.

"Nice gun, I heard it belonged to your father?"

Chris forced a reply, "he gave it to me when I entered this division…it's a gift", inexact how Wesker had heard about this, probably in passing conversation with another member of their team.

Wesker scoffed, "who would have thought weapons of murder could hold such...loving sentiment".

The statement irritated Chris but he hid it this time, knowing it was a dig.

Wesker wasn't finished, "you and Kennedy close?" He asked casually.

His trying boss was being chatty, something unheard of, the man liked to keep to himself, no one knew anything about his personal life and he deliberately kept people at bay. This blonde was secretive and deceptive at best.

"He's...my friend" skimming the gun back into its owed spot.

Is that what they were, friends? Chris had never given their association a specific tag. Leon had always remained an integral part of his life. He had never been confronted with the possibility of ever having to part ways with him, to lose him. The thought hit him hard, his mind driving doubt. What if it was already too late? He wasn't strong enough to shoulder his friend's death. Chris swallowed the bitter thought and spotted Jill waiting inside the vehicle. The sight of her gave him quiet courage. Leon was still alive, he could feel it. He was a fighter, they all were. This new fear was nothing but his mind playing games. Wesker clutched his shoulder and propped into his body, his vest digging into his arm as he spoke in a low voice.

"Time to work...let's see how good you really are Chris".

Wesker sauntered passed and sat in the front seat with the driver. Chris made a quick dash and jumped into the back of the truck. He shut the two doors and took a seat beside Jill. They were on their way. No one was talking. It was going to be a long drive. Jill rested her hand on his knee and gave it a squeeze. Chris rested his on top and did the same. The rigorous sound of volley bombarding the vehicle and the rise and fall of uneasy breathes filled the discreet expedition.

Jill broke the solemn mood, "Wesker give you a prep talk?"

Chris stroked the pistol with his thumb, "more like an insult".

She bumped his shoulder, "either way, you're the only one he actually talks too" sharp-eyed.

Chris moaned "so I've heard" resting his elbows over his knees.

They couldn't see the road, just the weakly lit lampposts, as they moved under them. He knew he would have to sleep otherwise the voyage would be the longest of his life, shutting his eyes to find Leon's napping face in the passenger seat, the wind puffing his hair. The guy would doze off during a discussion. Chris would never have the heart to wake him. Each time puzzled how he was able to switch off and slumber…like there was no tomorrow.

"Shithead…I'm beginning to think I bore you" grumpy.

Leon would smirk in reply as if he had heard, making him grin.

Chris felt Jill's hand climbing the back of his nape and alleviating his head to recline on her shoulder...revealing Leon's lethargic secrets. The said shithead had always slept in blind faith. The comfort of knowing someone else you trusted with your life was watching over you. Chris fell into dreamless kip. By the time they arrived it was almost 2:00 a.m. Chris woke up just before the truck came to a dead halt. They had to walk the rest of the way. They lowered their balaclavas, screening their faces. It was the final piece of apparel to become one with the dark, the safety glasses and helmets were their concluding armour. They took their time checking their headsets and equipment. Being seen was never going to be an issue. The prison was out-of-the-way and the location inaccessible. The military had ensured that all the reporters and civilians had vacated the area. It had been quarantined hours before their team's arrival.

The roads were currently blockaded and patrolled. The only way in was the route they had just taken. They made their way towards the arresting black gates. The skilled teams scaled them with ease, each man hoisting the other. The car park was empty, the controls unmanned. A sniper checked the tops for any sign of activity. It was all clear. Chris, Jill, and Wesker, were the last to enter. Jose's team scattered to perimeter the structure. Wesker used the scope on his machine gun to check the barbed wire where it had been removed, their ticket in. Shooting the zip wire and waiting for the hook to attach itself securely to the ledge. The remaining team hunkered as he gestured to them.

Chris assisted, "let me go first, it could be a trap".

He had a bad feeling since they arrived. It was too quiet and too empty. Where was everyone?

Wesker tugged the line, "wait for my orders".

Chris exhaled as he progressed to scaling the wall, keeping a wary eye on the nethermost windows. The lights were out. Someone had switched them off. He couldn't see anything inside without the aid of his night vision. The rope was tugged from above signalling their climb, waving for the others to go first while he handled the back as they ascended swiftly. Chris was the last one to hike, noticing the black char where the victim was set on fire before mounting.

Jose reported, "Wesker, we're inside and have a situation", voice weakening, "never seen anything like this...this is, fucked up?!"

Wesker knelt, "what kind of situation?"

Chris crouched beside him, tuning into their conversation, clutching his earpiece.

"We... found a member of SWAT...he's still alive...just", mumbling "his body...is uh...peppered with holes, haemorrhaging. They may have biological weapons here his body looks...real bad, definitely biologic...or chemical…Fuc-"

Wesker cut-in, "leave him, we still have to secure the building and that's your main priority".

There was a pause on Jose's end, "roger that".

Jose scrutinised the ponds of blood and signs of struggle along the ghastly corridor. The walls were bullet ridden, piles of empty shells…spent. The SWAT team had been attacked as soon as they entered the building. It was their blood. Their gear, shields, and weapons, were littered all over the place, gesturing with two fingers. The other men tracked his orders to keep moving down the passageway. Jose switched off his flashlight, about to position when the male who lay on his last legs grasped the butt of his gun, expression chock full of pain and trauma. Jose didn't have the heart to leave him unassisted but he had no choice but to keep going. They were accountable for securing the premises. Other lives depended on it.

Parting, "hang in there man, we will get help".

The dying male cried, "p-please k-kill m-me...there is something inside of…me...e-eating" sobbing and clutching his hand.

Jose fell back horrified; he had physically felt the man's skin crawling. The fading man creaked as blood sprayed out of his mouth. Jose switched on his flashlight. He could see his skin swelling as if a worm was rousing and looping within. The helpless man's eyes rolled towards the rear, moaning and gurgling, the disturbing sound echoed through the silent corridor. Jose subdued his cries with his gloved hand. They had to remain undetected. The failing man seized the pistol from his vest, shoved it into his mouth and fired. The blood spattered Jose's body, bits of brain sliding off his glasses…gasping.

The gunfire would prove to be fatal. They had just given away their location. Wiping the brain tissue off his goggles, "fuck?!" The organ smeared them. He detached his helmet when he heard a squelching sound coming from the lifeless man, readying his machine gun and backing away when he overheard a noise behind him. Jose lit up the corridor with his flashlight. A con was standing there, unarmed. That however was the least of his worries because this fuckers eyes had been gouged, his torso slashed, intestines presently dragging along the floor behind him. How was this man still standing, let alone moving? He had seen some fucked up shit in his life but this guy took the fucking cake.

"Get down, hands above your head and on your knees", the shout of rationality.

The splish-splashing was getting louder. Jose's eyes scanned the corpse. Something was moving inside the man's blown face. He pointed the light back on the con but the strip was unfilled.

"What the fuck…what the f-" something fell on his exposed cheek.

Jose took off his glove and smeared his face…the ceiling was dripping blood, directing the flow of his unsteady flashlight towards the ceiling to horribly discover it was swarming with prisoners. They were adhering to it like ghastly spiders. They released their mouths to shriek and what he saw scuttling inside made him boost his machine gun and fire illogically.

Wesker, Jill, and Chris, all heard the firings. They stopped mid-way down the emergency staircase.

Wesker was furious, "Jose, I said no weapons...until I gave the orders".

Chris heard additional gunfire in the remoteness. Jose's team was engaged and they had no choice but to go in guns blazing, picking up pace down the flight of stairs.

Chris pressed "we need to split up".

Wesker specified with his fingers in retort. Chris patted his shoulder as authorization. Five of the men took the left corridor. The remaining five kept following the staircase down to the basement. They could cover more ground and floors this way. The shooting was growing louder. The three of them followed the sound. Chris knelt as they came to a halt. The corridor was blocked up ahead by a steel door which could only be operated from the other side. Jill detached her gloves rapidly and produced the lock picks from her vest. She got to work. Locks and bombs were her area of expertise. The two men casing her, safety trigger on their guns…off. Chris riveted his pistol. Wesker was attached to his machine gun, all set.

Chris made the call, "Jose, what the hell is going on!"

Trying again, "Jose, come in damn it, report your positions?!"

Wesker detected, "Chris, the walls".

Chris saw. Two C-4's were mounted to the barriers. This was a trap. Jill was still trying to pick the lock when they heard oncoming scuffling and footsteps. They gazed down the passageway to find a group of prisoners standing at the far end, blocking their only exit. The route they had just taken to get in wasn't the one they could take to get the hell out. The sight of these men made his heart thump. They looked dead and it wasn't just his imagination, for their decomposing stench was all too real.

"Better hurry Jill" the imperative request, about to equip a stun grenade.

Wesker gripped "shoot to kill" the directive.

Chris was in two minds when they rushed their way, snarling like regressive beasts, a few jumping and hiking to scamper across the tops. He fired the first fatal shots. They didn't stop, still climbing with partially connected heads and limbs, hunks of flesh sagging off others, Chris's eyes expanded in incredulity. He released and replenished his clip, pointing towards their legs…firing, deciding to switch to quick-fire, raising his machine-gun, shelling and killing with fierce precision but they wouldn't stop coming. The closer they came, the more he understood their actions were not humanoid…their bodies seemed possessed. It was the only lucid description to the swarm of nearing inmates.

Chris shouted, "what the hell is wrong with them!?"

Wesker didn't answer, electing the incendiary grenade and flinging it without ever batting an eye. Chris watched it soar through the air before landing in the mid of the bedlam. They were all set on fire. The spine-tingling shriek from their mouths was inhuman. Chris didn't stop firing having noticed they hadn't quite run out of steam. Jill could overhear the tumult behind her but she was only absorbed with the security device, waiting for the final click as her agile fingers broke it down. They were counting on her and when had she ever let them down?

"Got it", she shouted exultantly over the volley of gunfire, pushing the door wide-open.

Chris had managed to spend two of his magazines just to hold these men off, reloading rapidly and making a break for the steel gates. Wesker shadowed as Jill thumped the button to deadlock, flopping on the floor in bafflement at what they had been firing at. The spectacle was utterly shocking. Majority of the detainees were either bullet riddled or cooked and yet somehow still thriving and grasping the bars. Black slush spurt out of one man's rib. They stepped away rapidly as it writhed on the floor…smoking. Wesker shot it with his pistol. Its head detonated, black gore spraying on the grounds. Jill and Chris stared dazed. What had they just witnessed? Jill stared at Chris for an explanation. They couldn't see each other's faces but their eyes held the same bewildered expression, neither had a clue.

Wesker examined the blood casually, his frosty eyes watching the burning men, as they finally succumb to the flames, the leeches inside their bodies trying to eat their way out of their flesh and frying in the procedure. Wesker pulled out a flare and lit. He placed it on top of the blood splatter. Jill hopped as the gore screamed. This entity was still living. It was trying to reshape its form and the drive had caught Wesker's eyes. Chris positioned his arm around Jill's shoulders and crouched next to Wesker as he sustained to smear the flash.

"How intriguing" Wesker spoke aloud unable to contain his curiosity.

So it was true, what he had been pursuing was right here. The innovation he had been waiting so patiently for. This time, he wanted to find the foundation of this murky blood.

Chris caught the crinkles in Wesker's eyes. Was he smiling…disturbed. How could this man be so cool in the face of what they had just witnessed? His own mind trying to obliterate the frightening pictures as his eyes meandered over the burning dead. This was hell. There was no other description or rational for it, rising. Leon was still trapped down here and he wouldn't be leaving without him, his eyes sweltering with perseverance. Come what may, he wouldn't stop until he found him.

"We need better weapons if this is what we're up against" adamant.

The resolve in his voice made Jill and Wesker stare his way.

Wesker answered in a honeyed tone, "now that's more like it. We better leave. These C4's could detonate under this heat. This corridor won't be secure for long".

Jill cocked her gun, "ready when you are boys".

The three brave mortals made their way deeper through the web of discomforting passages. They knew there was no going back.

Akira wasn't observing their progress on the monitors. They were just another group of hapless fatalities for his offspring and would be dead in no time. He evaded screen 3 which had his cherished betrothed with a horde of stiffs. Now wasn't the time to be slobbering over his yummy trophy. The two people that had gathered his considerations were promptly walking into the snare he had set principally for them. If only he had popcorn to snack on, his life would be complete, seizing the walkie-talkie.

"Robertson dear, it's time to pick up that jackal", buzzing.

Robertson injected the final canine and discarded the needle. The animals would only require a small dosage of Akira's infested blood to guarantee they had enhanced durability. The pooch barked and he rubbed his head fondly. The inmate's blood he had taken was sheltered in the dog's cage so to speak. He was attesting to be valuable and would croak in due course so decided not to shoot him, in spite of his pleading to do so.

The warden eyed, "we're ready. I just need to get…changed", keen.

Akira twirled in his chair and clicked monitor 9. The two appointed guards were still safeguarding the doors outside solitary, drumming the monitor, "my sweet fox...I miss you, time to answer your master's call" subpoenaing.

The guards were crushed as a massive knuckle rammed the metallic doors which such force that it flew off the hinges and slammed into the opposite wall, taking a chunk of the concrete with it. Akira examined as Nero stepped out of the cell. The sight filled him with novel lust. The tresses that had been unspoiled snow were now searing black. The youth had willingly allowed the darkness into his heart and it had desecrated his soul…undeniably dazzling.

"My, my...now the party can really get started", viewing monitor 3 with equivalent passion.


	19. The Duel

"Several Hours Earlier…"

Dante flew down. Leon had been forced, against his will, to take a piggyback ride, forgoing any needless walking in his delirious state. The medic and cons expiration's had been mutually shocking. The investigating hunter followed the blood trails where their bulks had been towed down the strips. The passage viewed like a print from a gruesome flick. The cylinder lights wavering and amplifying the disturbing scene.

Leon yanked the devil's mane, "the gunfire and explosions came from the other side" angry.

Dante understood. Blondie was still fretting since his boner had refused to dwindle and was currently stabbing his back. Forlornly, the budding knob was proving to be the foremost distraction…despite the present death and carnage tally. Dante recognised his plasma and his sexy physique were the basis of the prodding problem. You would think a hard blow to his jewels would have ended all his efforts to prevent any auxiliary erotic magnifications by the Alpha that was he but it was proving to be harder then he thought to put an end to his immoral behaviours. Blondie's responses were proving to be flattering and he wanted to personally see the overpowering effects of his blood…in action. Dante's curiosities were worse than any straying cats and Leon had become his unfortunate testing theme. A tad malevolent grin twisted his lips. Leon jerked his hair stiffer. Dante hissed in sting at the unanticipated outpouring of violence. Maybe, Blondie had detected his devious sexual plot to...sexually exploit him.

The fiend bawled "you're latched on my back, getting a free ride, quit being such a jerk".

Leon disagreed and strained to coil his way out of Dante's up-to-date clutch. Legs were clamped inside unbendable arms, wrists secured by the unreasonable medical tape, completely controlled. Who knew it could prove to be this deadly. They both stopped when they heard a "psst".

Dante gazed rearward, "what?"

Leon unrestricted his locks, "wasn't me" mildly.

Dante strolled down the passageway in hunt, inquisitive.

"Psst…this way" a squat voice was advising them closer.

Dante peeped upwards, fuddled. A bald prisoner was contained, unappealingly, amid the ventilation duct, having positioned a small stool to climb the wall, by some means. Dante regrettably recognised the chap. It was the lawbreaker they repetitively kept running into…the inconvenient fella that had blurred the lines for what was satisfactory behind these bars and between grown-up menfolk. Dante trod on the wall for leverage and propped on his elbows. Baldy, as he had been christened by Dante's intellects, gaped at his eerie nimbleness. Leon on other hand was struggling to keep up with the express swiftness, wrapping the red devils collar strongly and winding his now floppy legs around rigid hips, to adjust his weight. Dante miscarried to offer any assistance, unhappy about having had his mane jerked earlier. Baldy surveyed in amazement.

"You in a circus or sum fin!"

Dante refreshed, "let's just say Baldy am blessed with good looks, charm, and superman abilities".

Leon was less enthralled, "talk about being modest".

The inmate rubbed his plain head, "I have a name you know it's...Andrew".

Dante browsed indifferent, "I prefer Baldy…where is skinny, you're buddy?"

Leon guessed this was the name given by Dante to the other guy they always ran into. He had a knack for judging everyone by their exterior. The jailbird dropped his head and broke down into vivid snuffles. Dante's mouth fell open, not sure how to offer his commiserations, patting the threadbare cranium. It was peculiar seeing a mean looking tattooed man crying like a little baby. Perhaps, he shouldn't judge a book by its cover. Dante pulled one of the sagging dressings from Leon's chest and gave it to Baldy who removed it from his hands, blowing his nose, biting down on his wobbly fingers to halt his tears…enough to dialogue.

"He…he died, they…they all did" sobbing.

Leon relaxed his face against Dante's. He refused to believe the prisoners were all dead, even though they had just observed the vicious killings themselves. It was unlikely. There were at least 500 men behind these bars. How was it plausible? Jaw scratched Dante's stubble, his flesh stirring in perceptible pleasure. Leon licked his lips agitatedly to comprehend the most dreadful scenario he had yet to face. His usually biddable body had turned into an aberrant monster and was shockingly out of control. What choice did he have left? He was without doubt…not himself. These unacceptable urges and impulses were pushing him towards his logical collapse and with it, all his distinguished charm, stroking Dante's jawline like a stray horny cat that had just located his picture-perfect owner and catnip in one mind-blowing package…utterly reprehensible.

Sadly, even the above insight didn't stop Leon's lips foraging Dante's enthralling flesh, making his erection bulge, hopelessly understanding, that this devil was a moving, breathing, talking aphrodisiac…great. Leon grumbled, cringed, and shakily halted his questionable advances on another man before he could reach a point of no return. What the hell was wrong with him…pounding his head on the back of Dante's, over and over, in hopes of self-recovery. This magnetic red devil would be the death of him…he just knew it.

"I hate you" the self-contradictory statement of the day.

Dante promptly ignored Leon. It was unfitting behaviour in view of the serious observation Baldy had just made. Andrew watched on in double devastation, not only was his best friend dead but the warden he liked was playing S&M hooky right in front of his eyes. His life was truly over. He stopped crying when Leon groaned having sneakily licked Dante's skin and this time unable to cover his glee. Dante began to sweat, his dormant member had retorted to Leon's plea and he had an unbidden hard-on...once more, dipping his head in disgrace. Leon came back to his reasons and contrived ordinariness. His split personality was beginning to take a toll on him. The faded warden gazed at the whimpering convict who was stuck in the middle of their strange engagements.

Leon's hoarse voice prodded, "you were saying?"

The con decided to carry on, "he started coughing blood, was bleeding all over. I tried to help 'em but there was nothing I could do. He lost his mind...saying something was drinking 'em".

Dante's figure tensed..."drinking?"

Leon felt, figure-hugging involuntarily..."blood" mind elapsing.

Dante's voice had lost all previous zest, "did you...eat the food we prepared?"

Andrew retorted "am veggie, didn't eat the meat since I converted to Buddhism" full of pride.

Dante let go of the ledge, landing to piece the dealings. Hoping he was wrong. Cobalt eyes engaged with a curving smile. Leon judged. That protracted smile was disingenuous, grasping that he could only focus on Dante with precision. Everything else seemed to have taken a backseat. This was not good for his well-being. He was losing himself to the supremacy of Dante's lifeblood which was substantiating to be unwarranted, setting his head over his shoulders, his fingers gliding over the protruding Adams apple. Dante held his intrusive hands and sustained his cross-questioning of the substandard eyewitness.

Querying "what the heck exactly are you doing inside this ventilation?"

Baldy huddled, "somebody opened all the pens", eyes bulging, "those men didn't stay dead for long and their hungry…I didn't want to stick around to see what they would do…was hiding here until the wardens found me".

Dante paced. Up and down, "God damn leech from hell…that crocodile won't let up." He wondered if Vergil had known the blood was diseased. The insight was worrying. He stopped marching when he caught low-slung howls, drumming his foot, riled, "why does Verge have to attract the clingy, crazy, kinds?"

Leon wasn't listening. He was too busy inhaling Dante's skin; it was like being enclosed inside a pristine lea of perfumed roses, making him feel euphoric. He hadn't slept and was beat. Sleep was all he could think of. Nero had just about raped him, he had essentially died, and he didn't feel bad about trying to get a shuteye, if only Dante would shut up and his excruciating companion, amid his legs, would drop the hope of ploughing any fair maidens. Dante was no damsel but his mind created an alternative image of the devil garbed in a very satisfying Waitress get-up, the frilly white apron corresponding with those indulgent locks…mmm, tiny black skirt, black hosiery over those long-drawn-out legs…underwear?

Leon's repugnant inner thoughts were making him frown. Outer actions, thus far, had been plain inexcusable. He thanked his lucky stars that Chris wasn't here, thinking how he would have reacted finding him in this scruffy state, out of his mind? Probably shoot him and rightfully so, remembering those talking-to eyes, grinning. Chris would undoubtedly remain by his side, no matter what. Leon wanted to see his friend and this time, he wouldn't hide anything from him. Chris deserved better. He had been mistaken to leave him in the dark. This alcoholic blood was putting things in perspective. What was important and what really mattered? Leon was seeing the world with eyes that were all-encompassing…Dante's eyes?

Andrew slithered inside the hole, "hurry up and hide their coming" alarmed.

Dante observed the approaching shadows slothfully. He twisted Leon's body around so they were face to face, arms folding his abdomen and pushing him against the cold wall, jamming him to it, their naked chests hard-pressed. Leon disputed by transfixing Dante's nape, he knew he was playing games but this time he would make him repent, mind made up. He wanted to teach this bastard devil a lesson. Yet the essence coursing through his dispositions was yearning to be closer, driving him boundlessly senseless. Persuading to re-join Dante's crust, the only way he knew how? Dante intentionally extracted the lingering compresses from Leon's torso, detecting his cravings...for him. Leon suppressed Dante's complacent face into his trunk as the footprints stirred quicker, oversensitive hands clinching the wild mane that was roaring with spirit…tugging, panting and transfixing, with hungry anticipation. Baldy couldn't help but gape at the two men as they stared at each other with gluttonous eyes.

Leon told, "their…ha…coming" energetic.

Dante clasped his ass, "Blondie, you haven't even seen my imposing...sword" biting his lips for added effect.

Leon's nipple was being nudged side to side, by a curious nose. Tongue slithering over the blemish that was burning. Leon gasped and jerked his head against the wall, at odds. He knew Dante was just messing with him…and he didn't want to get carried away. The unpleasant stench of degeneration enclosed the two but Dante's fragrance and heat was superseding his body and beliefs. Leon was sinking, deeper and deeper, his hips pressing in twinge…thrusting. It was all he could do to ease his hot-blooded itches. Dante tightened his embrace and waywardly simulated the sexy gesture. Hips grind and plunge in sync, hands and knuckles paling from impetus.

The devil chuckled, "you're feeling it, huh?"

The dead were getting closer.

Leon had no answer, reaching the brinks of his ailment. All he could feel was Dante's soft hair against his skin, his warm exhales and tongue rotating and stinging his nipples. He was at the mercy of this man's touch, teeming in ecstasy, nails burrowing into his nape in need, want, and cagey despair. He wanted to test if these feelings were real. Leon lowered into Dante's lips that startlingly averted his face, confounded, trying again to validate the facts. Dante bit down on his chin and lifted him higher, legs situated over his well-built shoulders. Leon felt incipient rejection. Not only had Dante dodged his lips, he had complete control over his body and this deceptively imbalanced deed. The red devil was osculating his stomach, nudging his navel with his tongue, to no effect. Leon was softly disheartened.

Dante detected, "I want to share my secret with you Blondie, coz I know you will understand, seeing as you already saw my heart, shared my blood and my…fucked up fears."

Whispered low, "kid knows too, am sure of it…even that ugly broad does".

Dante owned up, "I don't kiss anyone on the lips", both hands sliding up Leon's trunk, "that right…is only given to one person in my life".

Leon moaned as Dante grazed the side of his sensitive stomach with his teeth, "my first illicit kiss was from those lips...I was drunk...my excuse".

Dante's eyes were exposed as they filled with love and desire, "who knew, excluding others from such a simple part of my body would break their hearts, but I could never let anyone get close enough to taste...what only I have felt".

Leon slanted Dante's chin upwards, "Vergil" he solved.

Dante's hands became kinder at the allusion of his brother's name, placing small kisses about his ribs, long lashes lancing. 

"I overstep the boundaries, take fucking advantage of him…he is to blame, for never stopping me. Spoils me…rotten and I always want more?" Expression hurt, "am in love Blondie…the real deal. I can't be without him and it makes no difference to me if he is...my…am fucking crazy in love".

The grin fading, "pretty fucked up, huh?!"

Leon imaged Vergil, his tad higher cheekbones, well-formed lips and those curving brows. Vergil's eyes were captivating. He couldn't look away when they had first met. Even as Dante had reared beside him, his eyes had persevered…only on Vergil. He couldn't recollect if the feelings he had felt at that time had been his, Nero's or Dante's? It was just irreversible love he had handled for the man in front of him. Nero's infernos had refined a connection between the three that only they could truly touch, know, and hold, within each other. Their misgivings, cuts, secrets…their very existence was shared.

Dante's declaration of love hadn't dissuaded him, nor had it come as a shock. Leon delineated his collar and Dante enfolded him the way he had inside that nightmare...in all conscience. He was frightened by what he had just disclosed and acknowledged himself…unguarded. Leon lowered his head and kissed the crook of his brow, circumventing their lips. Knowing this nerve-wracking revelation had taken guts to deliver.

Hopeful, "I know…you do. Am guessing Vergil knows…and so does Nero. You said it yourself we're all a part of…us" tousled, did that answer even make any sense?

Dante's hands pinched, prodded, and twisted his by now raw nipples to confirm it did. Leon could see the ill-behaved expression recurring on the devilish face, hands invading his pants to boldly massage his ass, extremely pleased with his authorization for concealing, one-sided, incestuous love, for his uninformed twin.

Leon's compassionate smile died out. The butt probing was the wake-up call he badly needed. This guy was taking full advantage of his deteriorated emotional state. Dante knew his being there was setting his body in painful appetite and he was going to leave him hanging…yet again. Dante's face was browsing his hard-boiled affiliate which was now hurting and jerking in woe, inside his perspiring pants. Yet this particular demon had no intentions of going any further then mocking foreplay. This was suffering in the form of unabashed teasing. Leon was beginning to hate that term. He lifted his hands away from about Dante's neck and kneed him hard in his self-assured face. The smirking bastard justified an added kick in the groin but this was all he could provide from this challenging location. Dante fell down grasping his face and Leon shadowed, tumbling on his ass.

Dante rubbed his muzzle, "what the hell was that for!?"

Leon scrubbed his butt and pushed Dante's legs, "stop teasing me you big moron, you know exactly what you're doing to me" quick-tempered. Even he had his limits.

Dante slid a finger inside his cotton pants and stretched before letting go. The band snapping against Leon's skin leaving it stinging, "you started it Blondie", he hummed sweetly having been caught red-handed.

Leon truly believed now that Dante was nothing but a disgraceful devil. His heart was still hammering from their touches, his skin pulsating where their flesh had come together. Yet he had purposely avoided any significant contact and was stringing him along. Dante was getting kicks out of watching him squirm, wriggle and writhe. He really was a predator, through and through, playing with his sapped meal.

Dante prodded Leon's member to incite, "told you, until my blood wears off, you isn't getting laid and neither am I".

Leon wiped his chest of Dante's dribble, "when the hell is that going to happen?"

Dante scratched his stubble, "good question...I'll need to ask Verge, which reminds me that we should find him. Those explosions and firing was him having fun...without me" jealous.

"Psst", Baldy had failed to get their attention for the past five minutes or so.

The bickering duo had forgotten he was still there, staring up heatedly.

Politely alerting "behind you" before scuttling backwards into the safety of the duct.

Dante turned to find at least thirty or so cons sniffing the air, his blood making their mouths drip, drip…drip. The spectacle of the dead made him feel a little guilt-ridden. He had been accountable for feeding them their last ever lunch…from hell. Dante could tell they had suffered badly and empathized completely, having been personally traumatised by the little bloodsuckers. There was nothing he could do now except let them rest in peace or pieces. Be that as it may, it was the least he could do. Also, he had no intention of disclosing this here truth to Blondie who would likely offer more than just a low blow to his neither regions. They scrambled and dashed. Dante procured his bundle and reared. Leon was infuriated.

"Untie me Dante" wanting to join in the fight. At least he was standing on his own two feet.

Dante cuddled, rotating so he couldn't see the unsightly enemy, "no".

Leon tightened his fists, rebuffing to acknowledge how good the embrace felt.

The devil lured, "I thought you wanted to see my weapons?"

Leon huffed, "I can help".

Dante cupped his face, "Rebel", he winked.

Leon's face was smeared in blood as Ebony and Ivory received their masters bid. The guns tore their way out of Dante's wrists. The icy silver scraping Leon's jaws as Dante extended his arms and steadied them over his shoulders. He twirled his pistols and sent a salvo of magical bullets into the advancing cons. These shots could never miss their fatal mark. It was child's play for he was using gunslinger, changing his bearings by pirouetting around Leon's body as he stood stagnant. Leon observed in awe. The remarkable shells were plummeting and vanishing back inside the barrel. These lethal shots were infinite, their rumble thunderous. Dante's mane was thrilling his skin as he enthused. His fighting style was over the top and stylish…just like him. Leon knew this was his only chance for settlement…for payback.

Leon stepped behind Dante, lowering his hands to rub the medical tape over his exposed nipples. Elongated caresses were being stamped behind the rising neckline and all over the clenched shoulders that were propelling. Tongue slipping and dipping behind Dante's ear before thrusting inside his inner, making the one receiving the attention flinch. Leon smirked as his avenging hands slid down the textbook abs. Dante's muscles were working on overdrive. Leon could feel the power-driven dynamism inside his fingertips…all around him. The glittering gold light belonged to Dante…it was his life-force and vitality which he was being contained by, reaching the burly lines that were running just above his hipbones, provocatively noticeable above the pants, thumbs encircling to indicate his plummet with diminutive sweet-talk.

"You have a nice body…for a man".

Unsure if he should go any further, heart thumping as he decided to bravely tail the outlines, gliding his hands inside Dante's pants and reaching the…forbidden mark. It was the first time he had touched another man and it had never felt so right. He pushed up against Dante so he could feel the aftershocks of these extraordinary firearms as they recoiled. Dante was trying his best to stay absorbed in the battle when he buckled. Leon's hands gripped his lively "sword" a bit too forcefully, skimming his balls.

Notifying, "don't even think about it Blondie…or else…" bullying.

Leon's thumb slid over his head in comeback, his fingers caressing the toughened muscle which was throbbing like his own, "you started this Dante and I intend to finish" over the edge.

Dante quaffed at the obstinacy in Leon's voice and the feel of his resilient hands stroking him, brutally. The medical tape he had used to his advantage, was now adding to his sadistic agony. Leon's lips were molesting his neck persistently. Biting and sucking his skin for added measure. How did it spiral into this? Maybe it was Karma and he had it coming. Dante couldn't pull away. Leon had him quite literally by the balls. He shouldn't have pushed Blondie. Sensing, he may have finally met his match, having underestimated his challenger who had turned out to be a dark horse. Baldy closed his eyes and ears. The gunfire was not of this world and he didn't want to become deaf and blind despite the lewd show the very hot men below were putting on.

Dante tweaked Leon out, exclusively fixated on spraying the passed on bodies, so they would stay dead and pass on. He knew it was the bloodsuckers he had to target, eyes pulsing red so he could see their hidden forms within their host. The parasites were radiating heat. Dante overlapped his arms and punctured their bodies when a rather loud and distracting moan escaped his lips. Leon's hands had picked up impassioned pace and he was doing a rather impressive job pleasuring another man, making Dante wary. Leon's suave digits were working strenuously, gliding with stubbornness and aspiration, his voice tilling beside his ears with chained breaths.

At this hazardous rate he was going to come, never going to happen. Blondie was humble but he wasn't. A defeat like this would be a huge blow to his flamboyant ego. He didn't vacillate. Leon's wrists were gripped and he stood astonished…unsure where he was…back in front where he originally started. Dante relaxed Ebony to his right temple and snickered. Leon could hear the hallucinogenic whispers as the pistols recited their master's appellation.

The fiend conveyed "you're going to pay for that Blondie, with your dignity", drumming Ivory on his about-to-be-laboured groin, for extra emphasis.

Dante settled Ebony inside Leon's stunned hands that held the revolver with captivation. Ebony was whirring something else as it impressed his inexperienced digits. The pistol was talking to him in another dialect. Dante's now free hand dipped inside Leon's pants and in full swing stroked, fast and hard. It was Leon's turn to grunt and murmur. Dante's hands were hot, his fingers nimble, and his technique immaculate. This hostile mortal wasn't going to last much longer. The devil wasn't finished. Leon felt Dante's warm lips pecking and sucking his ears, his hot and wet tongue darting in and out. Ivory was making its unhurried climb up his trunk. He watched it trail his skin as it ascended his well-defined torso. Dante rested the gun flat against his chest and scrubbed his nipples, the sizzling metal sending shudders and tremors throughout his entire being.

Dante vibrated into his ear "come for...me...Leon" irresistible.

It wasn't enough so he relaxed the barrel underneath Leon's chin, tilting his head back as he savaged his neck, making sure he left an additional hickey as vengeance with an "aah". Leon ejaculated to the sound of Dante's sensual voice, discerning words, and inspired use of demonic munitions. "Dante", his captured opponent groaned in scandal and pleasure unlike he had ever known. Dante chuckled loudly at his despair and clasped him into his chest, champion. Whoever said that war could be won without weapons was palpably flawed. Leon's form bent, cheeks a tad reddish, like his ears, golden hair clinging to his skin. He tried to thrust Dante back but his body was still spilling over, his ribs rising and falling desperately. Dante let his beaten member go and cleaned his hand purposefully over Leon's chest, the questionable icing on the cake.

Poking fun, "you look pretty hot yourself Officer…especially when you flush", he blew softly around his face to cool him off, "am glad, I got to see this sexy facial expression…so cute".

Thumb brushing the blonde's radiant jawline. The motion was more affectionate than anything else he had done today. Leon glowered…his pants were drenched, the sight filling him with soundless humiliation. His chest had semen on it…utterly degraded. Why did he keep falling so low to these turbulent emotions and making a fool of himself in front of someone who always ridiculed him? This was not who he was…wounded.

Dante stopped laughing when he caught the hurt look in Leon's eyes, feeling guilt, butchering the remaining party-poopers without deferral having extracted Ebony out of Leon's digits that were still snarled together. The sight of his bound hands made him feel worse. Dante raised and sliced the tape with his nail eliminating it from his wrists, dragging his flesh in the method but Leon was unresponsive, eyes dejected. Dante didn't know what to say. He knew he had gone too far. Destroying the enduring dead…until they were indeed "dead", keeping a close watch on the silent blonde.

Baldy undid his frightened eyes and lifted his hands away from his ear-holes. The fella with white hair was a superhero. Creeping out of the duct, he jumped down, examining the lifeless corpses gingerly, "see I told you, they..." he stopped talking when a black splatter squirted on his top.

Dante's eyes tightened, "take off your shirt".

Baldy removed his top in record speed, "you think they still alive" flinging it in fright.

Dante could see the splatter crawling. The sickening parasites were still active. Only fire could abolish these little shits. If only the kid was here, he could wipe the entire house clean with his hellholes, conjecturing if he was with Verge, hoping to catch up to them. Their stay inside this prison had happily come to an abrupt end. Now was the time to pack up and vacate. Dante turned to face Leon to share the good news. Blondie was gone…the corridor bare.

"Leon", he yelled, pacing down the strip.

Baldy was following not wanting to be left behind.

Dante spun, "you need to get the heck out, exit is the other way" pointing with his cannon.

Baldy waggled, "just promise me you will protect the warden".

Dante stared at him like he had grown two heads, "Kennedy is my concern" he guaranteed.

Baldy spread his snot, "he really likes you…you're a lucky fella...hope we meet again, superman", patting his back and sprinting like lightning in the opposite direction.

Dante gazed at his armaments and heaved a sigh, determining not to burn the bodies, sprinting after Leon's weakening spoor and straight towards the cafeteria where this present mess had originated. The hunter switched on the lights to find they weren't functioning. The chairs and tables had been toppled, a few fleeing guards had been ambushed, attacked, and drained. Puddles of dark blood tarnished the flooring. A number of the supervisors had been killed with a single shot to the back of the head. Dante could see their skins skulking, blasting the parasites that detonated out of their bodies, sidestepping the black splatter. Recess was over. Ivory was mouthing to him having rapt Leon's skin that surged the gun onto his jaw and noted the guiding whispers.

"I know...I know, quit your rant would ya", upset.

Dante sealed his eyes and could feel the mark drawing him in. Leon was here, strolling and pursuing by inclinations. He stopped inside the kitchen where he and Vergil had cut up the bodies. The last place he wanted to be. Inadvertently, the specific place Leon had chosen to hide. Examining the chamber unwillingly, he started with the ventilation ducts, the fridge, beneath the counters and grousing in thwarting. Dante mounted and squinted towards the oversize sink, something was drawing him closer towards the crawlspace beneath. Rallying enough courage to face Leon and giving him enough time to find the right words for his terrible conduct. He peeked lower to find the blonde fast asleep, head inactive on his elbow, legs squeezed into his chest. Dante lay down and reached out for his hand, locating his wrist and sliding him out. Leon awakened and tried to pull away. Dante rolled over and ensnared him beneath his body...over.

"Bastard" Leon spat, he couldn't believe Dante had found him, feeling wrecked. How did he fall asleep?

Dante boosted his head and skimmed his arm underneath, "I owe you an apology" muttered awkwardly.

Leon shoved his face, "I don't need your apology...just get away from me".

Dante reviewed, "I just gave you my first hand job, fixed the delinquent acquaintance in your pants and this is how you repay me…by running off!?"

The women in his life must have felt the same way. He really was a bastard for slipping away, having had his fun and wanting nothing more to do with them, at all times, looking for the nearest escape exit. He was the worst. Leon looked away, disgruntled. Dante let go of his wrists and enfolded him into his chest, hiding his face he announced the words coyly.

"Sorry…Leon" express of regret.

Leon stared, this time the apology was heartfelt and genuine "make it up to me" whispered slickly.

Dante's eyes amplified in shock. Compensation sex was not what he had in mind. Had this been a ploy all along? Blondie still had him by the balls and he didn't even know it. Dante tried to crawl away but Leon held him in place, "let me sleep for a few hours Dante...am all in". Leon could see the fields and whiff the rosettes. Dante's sweet scent was mind-altering. Just once, he wanted to know what it would be like to fall asleep inside this restful scenery. He justified the time-out.

Dante chuckled, "I don't see why not Officer, guess the ass kicking can wait for a few hours. Verge can handle these little suckers, with no trouble" confident of his brothers art for slaying.

Leon smirked "would love to see Vergil's...sword" racy.

Dante's eyes contracted at the sneaky remark, unable to differentiate if Blondie was winding him up or being serious. He opened his mouth to find a clever come back and couldn't, his silence plastered a rebellious winning smirk on Leon's lip's having attained the upper hand over him. He may have lost their last clash but this war was far from over. Dante cuddled Leon into his body positively and gave him an appreciative squeeze. Blondie could actually shut him up and keep him on his toes…who knew?

Leon groaned in pain at being compressed but decided to hold the irrepressible pup that he was stupidly falling in love with. Drowsy, when he overheard the easy-going whispers of Ebony and Ivory as they swapped murmurs…smiling...sleeping. Dante turned over so Leon was lying down on top of him, away from the stony floor, rubbing his arms to get their heat back. He studied the wings on Leon's neck and noted they had protracted in scope. The sight of them filled him with wonder and worry bracing his head under one arm…he couldn't possibly sleep, could he? Hell, he deserved his belated beauty sleep. Leon was the perfect blanket wrapping him, all snug and cosy when he recalled the ensuing "hard" detail. He still had a mother-freaking…hard-on.

Sighing, "y' know, am starting to think that I was the one who got short-changed here".

In the end, Dante dishonoured his prodding problem and decided to doze, unaware of the waiting menace. Destiny and fate were about to collide. An unstoppable force was heading their way, ready to obliterate…all in the name of love. How could one alter, that which has been set in stone?

"Dante...", Nero had roused from his unending slumber.


	20. The Thread

Dante awoke to the sound of thunder and strafing rain, stirring in bed...quivering. The never-ending nightmare preoccupied his dreams. The house they had shared as a blissful family had long been forsaken. The room his mother had met her end had been burned to the ground, along with her remains. Vergil had done it to ensure the demon that had possessed her body was truly dead. Dante didn't have the heart to watch, sat under a longstanding oak, just a kilometre away, viewing the smoke rising in the distance. Everything was lost. Their house was on fire. The cruel element that could end all, without prejudice, nails scraping the rough bark in desolation, rending them clean off, his flesh mended but his demonic blood couldn't restore his broken heart. It had been almost three years since that tragic day and he was still terrified to sleep alone.

They were currently housed in a small secluded cottage, just on the precincts of a nameless town, cut-off by a gaping valley. The tales of a creature preying on children had brought them here. The varying accounts from neighbouring towns had strangely labelled the drifting sprite as a tall man clad in a black suit. It was a weird sketch but being devil hunters they had seen it all, including demented dolls. One of which was still tailing Vergil...amused...she had fallen in love with him, an antique porcelain puppet, in a pretty pink dress. The little dolly had mistaken their rooms and had climbed on top of him, startling him awake. Realizing her fault she had tried to slash him, unskilfully, with a butcher's knife. Vergil had come in the nick of time and she had been shattered in the course.

Dante felt pity for the crushed marionette as she tried to stand on her broken legs, while his identical set his course for a killing blow, halting Vergil's hands, spending the rest of his day piecing the doll, bit by bit, enough for her to tread. She had repeatedly bitten and scratched his gentle hands but after a while grew tired and silent. Dante had named her Giselle, locking her inside the hotel safe so she would stop following the one that would never tolerate her existence. Despite this, he had seen her on several occasions, unsure, if she had grown attached to the duo. Vergil never questioned why he had chosen to save the possessed doll and he didn't feel the need to answer. They had spent all day searching for a suited man in these secluded valleys, to find nothing. A number of their cases were simply wary allegories...fear of the unknown. Humans were full of bullshit contradictions...and so was he?

Dante flung the covers and crouched beside the lit fireplace, afraid of the shadows lurking in his room and inside his own heart, lowering his head to his forearm and listening to the drip and patter of forgiving rains. Vergil was asleep in the other chamber, his doors were always locked. It was a practice that hadn't changed with time but his brother had. He had seen and felt the subtle alterations in his behaviour, the new uneasiness inside the once careless eyes...kindness. Vergil was becoming the older brother he had always craved and needed. Waves of benevolence were creeping into his sweeping heart...affection he wasn't used to.

Dante lowered his hand above his chest, it felt heavy, as if he was carrying a scab that refused to heal...widening and aching every time he thought about the one sound asleep. Vergil had forever overlooked his existence and Dante had made him the pivot of his universe. He had never imagined things would change so drastically. How did they get to be so close? He had always loved Vergil to the point of obsession but was this normal...confused? They were brothers weren't they? So it was OK to feel this way...if...if...all lies, even his mind couldn't conjure or justify what he was doing?

Dante's conflicted thoughts drifted to this morning when he had demanded to be the one to style Vergil's locks who had eventually given in to his perseverance and hounding. Dante had plopped on his bed and had respectfully located his less enthusiastic looking twin amid his legs. Vergil was clad in a pair of his faded blue jeans and no top, imitating the look he seemed to be garbing, owing to the hot weather. Dante had overwhelmed his hands with hair gel, before styling Vergil's mane with his swift fingers. He had detected how naive Vergil was in his unconditional approaches to pleasing him. Dante didn't know if this was guilt, simple obligation or answerable care. But now he never said no to his demands...no matter how outrageous and ridiculous they were becoming.

This other side of Vergil was causing a rift within...rapture, and he wanted to find out just how far this elastic band of trust and affection would stretch before it snapped completely. It was too good to last. Dante's digits outlined Vergil's temples, the years of having no physical contact and constantly yearning for it, had left his fingers hurting. Vergil's skin was rousing him...the way life bathed and blossomed in the rays of the sun. Eva and Sparda were lost…Vergil was still here...the one he loved the most. The soundless blue devil reclined his crown and stared up inquisitively.

"Brother, is this not done?"

Dante blinked, "yeah Verge...almost" dishonest, truth was, he didn't want to part with this closeness, nor this enthralling skin.

The cautious red devil enclosed his arms about Vergil's torso, his hands gingerly outlining the lithe body, petrified and enthralled by how different it was. Vergil didn't say a word and permitted all his straying touches. Dante wished he would say something...anything, push him away, tell him to leave, to stop following him but Vergil was hushed, inviting him to do more...heart setting a new pace, knowing what he was doing was erroneous. If Eva and Sparda could see him now they would be dismayed by their son's true intent. He felt ashamed and closed his eyes but couldn't pull away from the source of his disquiet. Vergil was all he had ever wanted and now he lay inside his open arms.

Dante slid down, wanting to be closer, legs stretched and snug around Vergil's body, one hand caressing his hair, giving his guilty conscious the pretences for continuing this taboo line. Dante was intoxicated by Vergil's scent. The forbidden skin, only his eyes had been lucky enough to caress from afar, was within reach. He separated his rims and found his neck, deliberately slow, imprinting a loving kiss...horrified and clasping in fear, almost to the point of suffocation, having realized what he had just done. Vergil made a pained sound, Dante didn't hear, awaiting reprimand and rejection, praying for it, so he could find the will to stop but neither of which came his way.

Vergil eased into his trembling lips. Was it in his head? He inhaled and kissed Vergil to find out. This time, his unsteady rims roamed the flesh behind his ear, watching the others reactions. Vergil's face had brushed against his. Dante felt a shudder at the connection. Vergil's heart was beating at the same pace as his own. They were both afraid of each other and what they were exploiting in the perils of this isolated moment. Dante had already guessed Vergil had never been touched by another and so was utterly unrehearsed. These intimate grazes and caresses must be peculiar and unusual to him. He on the other hand had plenty of experience which had left him unfeeling and vacant. Now he was overawed. Was this the true face of love and adulation? Being a part of someone one that could kindle a fire, so rare, and unsullied, it was almost too painful to bear, let alone touch.

Dante kissed Vergil's jaw and traced his lips with his fingertips, mustering the courage to dare and taste them. Vergil untied his sealed lips in answer. Was he dreaming? Dante found the nerve to press his lips between Vergil's who immediately mirrored the gesture, making him feel utterly heart-broken and despicable. Vergil was still appeasing him in the role of an older brother...thinking this was normal. Dante released his hold over the person that was his all. There was nothing normal about what they were doing and what he was thirsting after.

"Looks…good Verge" wounded.

Vergil turned to him, contemplative, "I did...something wrong?"

Dante smiled to hide behind his stinging heart and eyes, "course not, am starved, let's eat. You're turn to cook" walking away.

He gazed at the fires and let his tears fall. Burying these illegitimate feelings would have been easier than treading on the thorny path that would lead to nowhere. What did he want? To make Vergil his lover, to give himself away knowing he had never explored this side of himself? How cruel was he to be even thinking this way? Dante would only end up endangering their bond if he crossed this delicate thread of flesh and blood. He was unable to face Vergil after what he had done today. Tried to taint him and make him his own, knowing no other would ever get close enough. He held his head when he heard a knock on the door.

"Brother" Vergil called.

The softness in his voice made Dante close his ears. Vergil was the cause of his sorrow. If only they could go back to how things were before. Several minutes passed, Dante lay down on the floor. Maybe he could run away, part ways, before it was too late. It would be better for the both of them. He didn't trust himself anymore. Would he able to live without his better half? Dante tried to picture a world without his brother, it was impossible to imagine what his heart couldn't fathom in a million years. He would rather die than let Vergil go. This bout was over. With his mind made up he stood up and slipped on his blue cotton pants. Dante opened his door and knocked on Vergil's. There was no answer, his hand held the door knob; he didn't try it knowing it was locked. It was a secret door to another world he had only dreamed of entering but could never be a part of. Dante rested his head on the wooden frame and mouth the name etched in his soul.

"Vergil", he reminisced his childhood.

"Vergy?!"

Dante squatted to scratch the stealthy mosquito bite, wondering if his special blood would make the pest into a superhero. If someone tried to squish it, the creature would use his newfound super powers and launch them into the air. The thought made him giggle and shut his mouth as to not get caught. Clad in a white vest and blue shorts, he inspected his skin for any other nibbles, none were found. Dante relaxed his teddy Balloo on the floor. They were both 6 and Vergil had taken the executive decision to be granted a separate room, approved and sealed by their father, without his consent. It was their first night divided and Dante couldn't sleep. His plan had been to sneak back, unnoticed, but hadn't predicted an inaccessible door. He stared up to find a tall shadow looming.

"Dante?!" Sparda was not pleased to find this little intruder on the prowl, scooping.

Dante hugged Sparda, "I can't sleep alone...dad…it's not fair, you only listen to him, not me". He was trying emotional blackmail to prevent a 'talking-to' and knew he had botched it when Sparda laughed, shaking his small body inside his arms.

Sparda pointed at Balloo, "isn't this fellow with you?"

Dante stopped a smile in its tracks, "he is...but Balloo doesn't count", brushing his father's sleep driven hair which was out of place for a change.

The legendary knight scrutinized the door, "sooner than later Dante you will need your own space and privacy. Everyone does, as they get older. As you know, your brother is very mature for his age".

Dante rested his head on Sparda's shoulder knowing there was nothing he could do. He wouldn't be able to sleep from now on. Sparda patted his back and made his way towards his own bedroom.

"Just for tonight you may sleep with us but after this, I forbid you from leaving your room".

"Is that clear Dante" educating.

The little devil raised his head defiantly, "what's the fun in sleeping...alone?"

Sparda rubbed the back of his head, "Vergil is...different. You both need to see the world from each other eyes...to understand one another. For now, I urge you to enjoy your new room and…I will also buy you a fish tank" bribing.

Dante couldn't stop the smile this time "I want the biggest one, like...like, the one we saw in the aqu-ari-um, with sharks". He stretched out his arms to show Sparda the size that would be considered adequate.

Sparda opened his doors, "you may choose but remember what I said".

Dante continued to stare at Vergil's door as his father marched him inside. Eva switched on her bedside lamp, her long blonde hair open. She was wearing a cream night gown. Their luxurious king size bed still perfectly kept. Sparda sat down in bed and placed his small bundle in the middle.

Eva shook her head, "what do you think you're doing out of bed Mr?" She pinched his nose shut making him sneeze.

Dante scratched his foot and nuzzled inside his mother's open arms wriggling into a comfortable position, "Balloo couldn't sleep and I...I missed you" he buttered. With his mother he poured on the love to avoid being disciplined.

Eva picked up the bear, "is this true?" She jabbed his belly seriously. Balloo's brown eyes stared at her cheekily.

Sparda rolled over, "it appears the blame is being passed onto one that cannot talk or defend himself".

Eva spotted the mosquito bite, "Sparda, why isn't this healing?" She lifted Dante's foot in the air in anxiety, surfacing the dimples on Sparda's cheeks in retort.

"Your son is scratching relentlessly Eva. There is only so much my healing blood can do" he reassured.

Eva leaned over Dante's body, suffocating Balloo and him in the process, "did I ever tell you Sparda how frustrating it is to be the only one to suffer a cold, a cut, a fever...in the entire family and have my heart jump at the sight of my son's mosquito bite...not healing".

Sparda kissed Eva's lips, she fell silent, "do you know what it's like to watch the one I love be inflicted by pain, knowing, I have healing blood?"

Eva repaid Sparda's kiss, "I am truly blessed darling to know that I will never have to fear for the three of you", nearing tears.

Dante couldn't breathe and attempted a poor teleportation technique. Appearing on his father's shoulder like a small monkey. He knew these two had forgotten all about him, covering Balloo's eyes as his parents kissed nosily. Sparda covered his curious eyes as Eva decided on the French approach. Dante lifted his father's hands away in bother. It could be this was their plan all along, to send him running back to his own room, with his tail tucked between his legs. Parents were calculating.

"Am going" he declared, climbing down Sparda's shoulders.

Eva hugged him into her arms and kissed his cheek hard, Dante pout and wiped, knowing they had won this round as a team. His next approach would be to divide and conquer. Dante left the room and closed the door behind him. He sauntered past Vergil's door but decided to try the door knob. It was locked and he couldn't break it down. Any damage to the house resulted in groundings and allowance cuts, neither of which he could afford this summer.

Dante sited his temple on the door...crying, releasing his hold over the handle and drifting outside. If he couldn't pass the endless night, he would simply wait for the dawning, seating on the front porch. The burst's greeting his demonic senses as the rain encountered his unprotected body. He stared up into the black sky as it fell all around him in kind beads. He could see the outlines of every droplet. The world was decelerating to a stop. If only it could wash away his heartache. Dante felt a tender hand reaching his crown, the nonchalant fingers stroking his forehead, unsure and cautious in their reassurances. He stared up at Vergil who was also drenched. Dante didn't know how long he had been standing there observing him. Vergil gripped his elbow and yanked. He stood up and was lead quietly into the elder's room but couldn't find the nerve to enter.

"Dante", Vergil was annoyed and pulled him roughly inside before disappearing into the bathroom.

"You woke me up…before…" he answered sweetly, trying to cover his earlier straying steps.

Dante sat down on the floor at the end of the bed, feeling better. Being around Vergil would always make him feel comforted. The blue devils mane was fixed firmly in place, despite the rains best efforts, thanks to the fact that he had supplied enough hair gel in his inquisition to last an entire week. The sight made him smirk. Vergil was not pleased as he came out of the bath with two clean towels. He slid his hand underneath the covers and pulled out Dante's arch-enemy...Ya-ma-to. The sight of the katana, though sheathed, in its beautiful black and gold lacquered case made him practically wet his pants. Yamato and he were intimate in ways he didn't want to be and nothing stung or hurt more like a bitch than Vergil's favourite katana.

The freaky sword had a mind of its own and thirsted for his blood, Dante would know since Rebellion had personally counselled him. If that wasn't bad enough he had the bloody blade following him around, literally. At first he thought Vergil was leaving it in his room to instil fear but he was a fair player and wouldn't stoop so low, usually his cold stare would do the trick. The knife-edge had been beckoning itself to his room…at night. Mato had even called his name a few times, audaciously demanding his blood out of utter desperation for his master refused to graze his flesh and the blade had become habituated by the buttery essence.

Dante had thrown his bed covers in riposte, covering its mouth, so to speak, before running out of his room to retrieve the sleeping owner. Since then, Vergil had decided to sleep with the weapon so it wouldn't escape and torment him. The last thing Dante wanted was a sparring session to commence at 3 a.m., which wouldn't be unusual between them. Vergil had been appalled by his combat techniques which mandated robust chastisement and had been unyielding in his methods to 'fixing' them the only way he knew how...beating the shit out of him.

"Good night Verge" he nodded thankfully and decided to make a quick exodus.

He hadn't even sat up when a phantom sword zipped past his cheek, slicing his tresses and slamming the door shut, gluing him to the spot. Dante inspected his hair which was growing back and fretted. It wasn't the first time his fair locks had come under attack. Vergil had given him a fair share of fancy haircuts over the years. He couldn't think of anything apart from the hair-do that could have made him this intense.

Dante flicked his fallen strands off his knee, "it's only fair Verge that I also have a weapon".

Vergil positioned Mato against the wall, "quiet" he commanded.

The katana and Dante both fell silent unsure who he was addressing. Dante glanced at Yamato and stuck his tongue out to taunt it. If it had eyes it would likely throws daggers his way. He waited for Vergil to say something but he was still playing with the Japanese ribbon attached to the handle. Dante rested his head on the bed and revered. He was the better swordsman, having exclusively honed all his skills on one weapon. Vergil removed his white cotton pants and Dante looked away blushing. He had never seen his brother naked. His heart reminding him he had no business being in this room.

"You don't sleep" the elder's observation caught him by surprise as he dried his faultless body.

Dante folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, "I can't sleep Verge...there's a difference" casually.

Vergil moved closer "you call out...her name" voice impartial.

Dante closed his eyes as he felt the pain soaring inside of him. The person he called at night was Eva, the name he never spoke during the day, as if she had never existed. He felt his tears engaging him and held them back. In his moment of weakness he hadn't even noticed Vergil's silent actions. Dante felt the towel coming down on his head. Vergil was drying his soggy mop, both legs resting on the sides of his body that was tucked between his legs and chest. Vergil started to remove Dante's pants and he panicked.

"It's OK Verge...you...don't have to do this".

Vergil was puzzled "you're drenched!"

Dante didn't know whether to laugh at the situation or cry. He gripped the towel and quickly removed his pants covering himself with it. Vergil picked it up and started to dry his hair. Dante couldn't hold back his tears…his brother would never understand what he really felt for him. Vergil stopped, folding his arms about Dante's slightly cool torso and cupping his jaw. The sight of his cries was troubling him, stealing them from his skin between his lips. The last time he had done this Dante had smiled. Vergil waited for the smile to appear but it never recurred. He tried again; perhaps he had done it imprecisely. This time his tongue raised the tears directly from his skin, letting them remain on his lips. The motion made his twin pull away from his bounds...nothing worked.

"Don't...cry" he urged, the back of his fingertips mildly stroking his cheeks.

Vergil had always been the cause of Dante's distress, seeing him in pain left him aggrieved. He hadn't been eating well and had also lost considerable weight. Vergil could physically measure him inside his hold. The physical confirmation of how inadequate he was in taking care of his younger sibling who was entrusted to him and was waning in his company. Vergil was growing concerned, for Dante was proving to be challenging to know and understand. No matter how hard he tried, one way or another, he always ended up hurting him. Why did they have to be so altered in temperament? Vergil stroked Dante's lips with his fingertips, he had been learning from his brother about love and gestures deemed appropriate to show ones devotion for another. Sentiments he had never cultured.

Dante eased back into his arms and Vergil was consoled. He had memorised these touches to use them for future guidance, sliding his lips to capture his nape. Dante shuddered quietly as delicate kisses imprinted his collar, his hair, his jaw...steadily growing drowsy, the prospect relieved Vergil. The blue devil had stopped locking his entries the day they had lost their parents yet Dante constantly evaded his room. Vergil had concluded that he had come to detest him for killing their mother but his actions had articulated otherwise. He could feel his brother's tentative footsteps outside his doors each night, catch his lips calling his name. Perchance, he hadn't been clear enough in his wishes, so he spoke his needs aloud, hoping his brother would agree to his invitation.

"You will sleep with me from now on" eloquent.

"There is no need for a separate room" kissing his earlobes.

Dante smiled, the blue devil felt it beneath his fingertips. The sight was more prepossessing than the rising sun he never missed to gaze upon as a part of his quotidian rituals. He would have to change his set routines he couldn't envision Dante being out of bed at 5 a.m. This way he could also keep a closer watch over him, in hope, he would start to sleep through the nights the way they used to as children. Vergil pulled the covers from his bed and draped them over Dante's body that opened his eyes, he was still crying. Vergil didn't know what he could do to stop this supple stream. Dante smiled fully at his perplexed face.

"Did I ever tell you bro that people cry when their happy", accustoming Vergil's arms around his body.

Vergil was left dumbstruck, "tears of…joy?"

Dante curved, so their bodies were tangled together, "yeah Verge…tears of happiness".

Vergil stared at him innocently, "how do you tell them apart?"

The red devil lifted a tear from his eyes and sited it amid his lips, "they…taste different".

He slid his hand inside Vergil's mane and parted his mouth knowing exactly what he would do next. The predictable blue devil glided his probing tongue into his mouth to extract his costly tear. Dante didn't hold back. He met his tongue with his and kissed with everything he had sealed away inside his heart over the years. Love that held no boundaries was more sacred than all the places of worship, transcending higher than any desires of the flesh. Love in its most powerful form, unconditional, acquitted, and destined within souls. Vergil repaid his kiss, duplicating his passions perfectly. They didn't sleep that night, unable to break away from each other's lips. It was the first time Dante had stayed awake to hear the birds praising the horizons, loved the rays of the sun as they struck his brother's glowing skin and figure...rising breathless.

Vergil stared out of the windows, slowly parting their busy mouths. Dante nipped his lower lip, making it bleed, winking at Yamato who was sighing for his master. It was their time to train together and the katana was missing his owner's hands. Mato was not used to being unkempt and was envious of Dante who was proving to be a nuisance. Vergil gazed at him as he burrowed back inside his arms having no intention of getting up. Vergil stroked his hair and evaluated his face which looked unusually contented, sliding his thumb over his tender, swollen, and bleeding lips, preventing his healing blood from curing their cuts. Preferring to keep his rims fashioned the way Dante had shaped them, prompting him of the imperative question still persisting in his mind.

"Brother...I think the tear tasted the same, salty, how is one to discern the difference?"

Dante chuckled, "that's a secret bro, you will have to discover on your own and until you do…I will wait for you", pressing their lips together jokily, "the kiss was different too...don't y' think?"

Vergil's eyes refined in understanding, he kissed Dante's lips adroitly, "sleep..."

Dante heard the thunder crackling and this time he awoke. Something weighty and warm was covering him. Leon was still out cold. Dante smiled and kissed his nose as his mind journeyed back to the sweet memory of Vergil's first kiss, which he had pinched. A devil's dreams were always memories they had already lived and he was thankful he had his best one thanks to Leon staying this close to him. Dante could never sleep alone and he only slept through full nights inside Vergil's skin. That was when his ear picked up the acquainted sound, the patter of paws on concrete.

"Vincent" he mumbled curiously.

Dogs were evidently on the premises.

Dante turned over and lay Leon on the floors. He pushed him back with one finger, sliding him under the crawl space beneath the sink for safety. He picked up Ebony and Ivory and walked out of the kitchen into the open cafeteria to find four canines mauling a dead body. Pieces of human flesh were between their teeth as they chewed, some of it falling to the floor which they lapped up greedily. One of the mutts turned to face him, the left eye falling out. Dante really didn't want to see that but the canine still looked adorable, coincidentally resembling Vincent. The other three pooches stopped eating and turned their voracious attention to him. Dante tapped Ebony under his chin. He didn't want to kill these cute dogs but if Blondie was bitten by one he would be held accountable and wouldn't hear the end of it. He weighed the consequences and jumped on top of a table.

"Hate to do this to you pups", deeply apologetic in advance of his pending mistreatment.

The first pooch jumped towards him and he shot it in the mouth, head exploding, the leech inside his body wasn't finished, the canine was still moving. Now that Dante was rested he didn't hesitate to trigger. He summoned his devil and flew in the air shooting a bolt of heat at the four luckless mongrels, laying them to waste. Rebellion formed inside his clawed hand, its skeleton head and eyes shooting red as it honoured his master's touch. Dante spun the blade like a boomerang, dividing the dead bodies that were littering the cafeteria. As Rebellion spun its course, he set it alight with his fire, roasting the leeches and dismembering them. Happy with his work, he de-triggered.

"Verge, this better be our last night here" scratching his torso with the barrel of his pistol.

Dante dashed when he heard a man's loud shouts for help coming from close by, he opened the double doors to find a member of SWAT fending off two hounds that had cornered him. Dante clutched Ivory between his fangs and shot the pooches with Ebony to divert their attack. They ran towards him having sniffed his blood. Dante somersaulted tastefully and sent a hailstorm of bullets as they passed under him, leaving their skins in shreds, teleporting behind the SWAT member, helping himself to the flammable grenade and tossing it towards the weakened dogs as his finishing touch. The leeches death cries were music to his ears. Dante turned to face the man who was still wearing a protective helmet. He placed Ebony in his pants and took Ivory out of his mouth to talk. He had guessed this guy was a part of the rescue team, presumably sent in to deal with the rather fucked up apocalyptic conditions. Dante boasted unsure which weapon to put away.

"No need to thank me, officer" well-mannered.

The shaky man rested both hands on his knees to catch his breathe. Dante stared at the canines as one of them tried to stand before dying. The distressing sight filled him with a pang of guilt. Why did death and destruction follow their shadows? He felt a sharp stab to his neck, as if he had been pricked. The SWAT member was staring at him, flinging the pen injection to the floors and removing his helmet. The ugly scar and blonde hair was the last face Dante would see clearly.

"I won't" Robertson stated, pulling out his walkie-talkie, "bring the remaining mutts...I have him" satisfied.

Robertson was counting the dogs on his fingers to see how many they had left. Six had been forfeited as diversions. The remaining four would complete the first phase of his plan. Four guards came down the hallway. These dogs were in the middle of their transformation. The leeches were taking their time draining them, their teeth snapping as they barked madly having smelled the air. Dante couldn't stand and fell to the floor; he was already in the grips of the same drug he had used on Nero. This time he had upped the dosage, sensing this one may be stronger compared to the little brat who was next on his kill list. These white haired men would be leaving this prison only in black body bags. Akira's orders had been thrown away as soon as he left the rooftop. He was done being the incubus's lapdog. Pleasure could satiate him for a while but nothing matched his gusto for violence. Robertson stared at his destitute victim as his body succumbed to paralysis. He wanted explain the rules. It was fun letting the afflicted sentenced to death know exactly what was allotted. Fear was a beautiful thing.

"I know it was a cheap shot but it still takes skill to catch the enemy…off-guard".

Dante tried to sit up. Robertson struck him hard with the butt of his handgun. He fell back, head coating with fresh blood. The flow wouldn't cease, he had lost all functions to his body. The drug was attacking his nervous system. If he couldn't think, how could he heal? Dante's lungs were fighting for air; the pain was the only thing keeping him in his wits. Robertson slapped him hard to awaken him.

"I'm going to...feed you…to them. They will eat you alive and you will feel every bite as they rip your flesh from your bones."

"You're dog meat" grinning.

Dante could hear their paws approaching. The guards were having trouble holding them back as they tugged hard on their leads, lunging forward and ripping their skins on the leather, out of control.

Robertson erected, "they look…peckish" sadistic.

Another man's soft voice caught him off-guard.

"Don't…touch him".

Leon stepped out of the shadows and was walking towards the four guards who turned to face him. He had no weapons, exposed. The sight of him left them shocked. Robertson inspected him head to toe as he stood a few feet away. Even he didn't recognise the rookie warden whose current state looked like he had just walked out of a mental ward. Robertson smiled and rested his boot on top of Dante's chest making him wheeze, the gesture made Leon crouch down next to the two slain dogs whose bodies were still burning. He buried his hand inside ones guts and snapped the rib bone, clean off. Leon stood up slowly clasping the jagged edge and stroking the tip to test its sharpness. Robertson was titillated. He had read the rookies file and knew he specialised in knifes.

"Officer Kennedy was it? You really should have…quit". He removed his boot from Dante's chest and stood next to the guards, "I specifically saved these dogs for him and it would be a shame to use them on you".

Leon moved closer and leered, "Sir…you can shove this job up your ass and…die".

Robertson was enthralled, "so be it…release them".

The guards let go, the hounds raced towards their prize, Dante's blood and marking drawing them towards the mortal. They must have been moving with speed but he could see each paw as it stamped the ground, their clumsy temperament as they stumbled into each other in their excitement to reach him, readying his weapon knowing which one to take out first. His right arm coming up to his face, body in a killing stance. 

Leon gutted the first dog that leapt his way; it whined and fell to the floor, quickly rolling over he caught another by the scruff of the neck. The dogs snapping jaw's inches from his face, close enough to smell it's breathes. Leon punctured the animal's neck and sliced upwards making a gaping hole and tossing the canine off him. Another one seized his left forearm, thrashing his head side to side, ripping his skin to shreds. The last dog saw his opening and lunged for his throat. Leon lifted his leg and hoisted the dog over his shoulder slamming it into the wall. He pinched the collar of the mutt biting his arm and slammed the bone into the dog's eardrum, piercing the brain. The dog whimpered and shook its pelt before collapsing. Robertson and the guards watched on stunned.

"Don't just stand there, fucking shoot" he yelled.

They aimed as Leon elevated, clutching his bleeding forearm. The bullets were fired, resembling sparkles as they soared towards him. This time he had to rely solely on his body and carnal instincts. He ran towards the firing guards, sliding on the floor and kicking one in the knee, the man held his leg and he supplied a lethal blow to his neck splitting it open and severing the vessels, blood gushing on his face. He was in the grips of his fight or flight reaction. Any mercy in his heart had evaporated when they had attacked Dante. These men had brought out the animal inside of him. He punctured the boot of another, the man shrieked in torture and he delivered a blow to the temple, silencing him. The man's eyes bleeding as he took his last breathe. Leon snatched the gun out of his hand and shot the other two wardens in the head. They didn't get a death cry, all four tumbling dead at the same time...that is how fast he had moved. Robertson pointed his gun at Dante but Leon shielded his body with his own, facing-off, lying on his back when he felt warm blood trickling his skin. He had been shot in the abdomen. He gripped the gun tighter and steadied his hands, ignoring his draining wound.

"Impossible" Robertson couldn't believe his own eyes. "Your one of these…white haired fuckers..." hand moving towards the knife attached to the back of his tactical vest.

Leon glared, "what...did you do to him?"

The question was the only reason the man in front was still alive, once the answer came he would be joining his buddies in perdition.

Robertson smiled, "just a modest medicine similar to an anaesthetic but even he is not exempted from breathing...nothing you can do for him...he will be dead in no time".

Leon lost his grip over the gun. Robertson had predicted his reaction. Emotions were flawed. He slipped the knife out of his back and threw it at Leon's chest. Leon caught it in his right hand, the tip embedded inside his torso, hands bleeding where he was holding the razor sharp steel. Leon plucked it out. His eyes still fixed on Dante's pale face. Robertson stood incredulous, how had he caught the knife, about to fire his gun when he grunts in blow. A knife was lodged in his heart. Leon had repaid...with brutal interest. Robertson swiped his overflowing lips and stared down at his body in disbelief. The blade had entered the protective metal plates encased inside his bulletproof vest. The man in front was not human.

"Fucking...freak" he spat before dropping dead.

Leon rustled in pain and clutched his gunshot wound. The bullet hole was visible as he lifted his arm and examined his skin. He also noticed movement. The dog's weren't dead, the smell of fresh blood tempting the leeches in their bodies to continue their feast. Leon dragged Robertson's leg and took the last incendiary grenade from his vest, tossing it at the hounds, setting them and the corridor ablaze. Leon lifted Dante's head onto his lap and stroked his hair with his bloodied and trembling fingers. Dante's chest was still rising and falling but painfully slow, he knew the drug effects were reversible and he needed to get him to the infirmary. He tried to lift Dante's upper body and cried out in despair. He couldn't move him.

Leon cried "you...dumb bastard". He hugged him into his throbbing chest, tilting his head so he could breathe more easily. 

"Stay awake...don't you dare...sleep" he kissed his hair and could see the gold light dwindling. Dante's life force was vanishing, right in front of his eyes...he was dying "...stay with me" when he sensed new danger looming.

Leon turned his head to find the dead congregating; they had heard the gunfire. A sea of them filled the once empty space, the fragrance of divine plasma looming in the air, clutching Ebony off the floors he aimed, still holding Dante in one arm. Leon fired the pistol to a silent click, this devil arm was loyal to his master's touch and no other could ever wield their power. Leon laid the pistol beside Ivory hoping Dante would heed their whispers, commending him to stand and fight. Dante's eyes blinked open slowly. Leon's warm tears were falling on his face.

"Go", the devil mouthed.

Leon kissed the corner of his lips, "whose going to protect your sorry ass, if I leave", taking the operational gun and reloading a magazine with shaking hands.

Rebellion was resting between the guards departed bodies. It was calling Yamato. Trusting the katana would hear and alert Vergil to come to his master's aid. Dante could hear Rebellion weeping. It was the first time his sword had shed voiceless tears. Dwindling eyes were taking in the blurry visions of death and ruin all around him. He was tired of the sight of blood, loss, and mourning. Leon was kissing his cheeks lovingly, his tears smearing his skin. Dante could hear his fluctuating heartbeats, pained breathes...his blood. Blondie was a hero and would make a great cop. Leon held Dante's hand, entwining their fingers he was trying to hold onto the person who was slipping away from his embrace. He would never be the one to say goodbye.

"Don't…give up…just hang on a little longer" the blonde pleaded into his faded hearing.

Dante wasn't listening, watching Eva dancing barefoot in her red dress with their father. Dante had missed his parents. It had been an eternity since his weary eyes had gazed upon their smiling faces. Dante was the one who had hidden his mother's shoes because they had been hurting her feet. Sparda had been elated with the job of carrying Eva inside his arms because Dante couldn't remember where he had left her prized stilettos, by the end of the night, he was completely drunk.

Eva had covered her face in shame when Sparda had flung her over his shoulder to clean her feet with his hands. All the pompous attendees had regarded the two of them with snobbish stares and he had laughed so hard his stomach had hurt. Now he could hear the violins, as they played a symphony so beguiling it was taking him above and beyond the dominions of this realm to a place where his soul couldn't help but reside. The aroma of roses filled this occasion and he wanted to be a part of it, to dance with his mother again and join his father's side. Dante was about to walk into the ball room when he overheard the name of the one he was leaving behind. The one he had loved the most...

"Vergil".


	21. Hope

"Vergil" he whispered into Dante's ear. This name was the only one that could save the one failing inside his cares.

Leon mislaid his grip over the handgun, powerless to clamp it any longer. He possessively clutched Dante into his body, sensing this was the end. In his final moments he thought about the person who had always come to his rescue, to pull him back from the brinks, the reliable individual who had stood quietly by his side, at all times, when he had felt completely hollow and alone.

"Chris" he called and stared at the dead as they tore towards him. He shielded Dante from their sights, his chest static, the rash devil had fallen asleep, without his say-so, kissing his cool temples and searching for the faded attar of roses as they abated, ever so slowly, enclosing their indulgent petals. The marking on Leon's collar was unravelling and disappearing into his human flesh. He would never get the chance to see how arresting it was.

"Leon!" Someone yelled from afar.

He elevated his dipping head to find three people dashing towards him. They resembled poignant shadows but the voice was inimitable. It couldn't be. "Chris!" He was confused, his feverish mind generating an image of hope…a fabricated mirage. They fired up their machine guns at the oncoming bodies that were plummeting and writhing all around him, the rigorous sound of the sharp volley transferring him back to the living. This was real. How could Chris be here of all places? His disbelieving mind couldn't comprehend a miracle in the midst of tumult and endless commotion.

Wesker pounded the dead scrambling the walls, "there's too many, we can't hold them off".

Jill was running a few steps in front and tossed a stun grenade. Leon saw it glide through the air, too slow to react, blinded by the light as it sprung, ears exploding, eyes stinging, lugged away abruptly by forceful arms. He blinked to clear his bewilderment to the startling vision of Dante's abandoned figure...alarmed.

"N-no...no, Chris...you have to...s-save him" hostile.

He tried to drag himself out of Chris's controlling hold to be strapped by another set of arms. He was being separated from Dante. His heart cutting as he watched the fiends ascending his unguarded figure.

"No, l-let me go" throwing their hands off.

Chris detached his helmet and gear and clutched Leon's stunned face. His pupils were dilated and he had lost a lot of blood, likely in shock from PTSD. The stun grenade had hit him hard.

Fearfully, "it's me...Chris?"

Leon's state was unspeakable. Whatever had happened here he had been in the middle of it.

Leon stopped struggling, "C-Chris...please save him...he is still alive, t-they drugged him" trembling.

Chris gazed at Dante's body as the deceased instigated their repast, biting into his nude torso, perturbed by the horrific spectacle.

Wesker voiced in a fed-up tone "we have to leave...now."

Jill was silently studying the gunshot wound on Leon's strained abdomen. His injury looked serious. Most of the staff was dead and they knew there were unlikely to be any other survivors. The worst part, they had lost contact with both of their skilled teams…now assumed dead, including Jose. They had no choice but to pull-out, low on ammo and missiles. Even gathering the supplies from amidst the beset bodies hadn't been adequate; most of the ammo had already been spent by the guards to save themselves before they were annihilated. It wasn't just the dead that had concerned them. This prison was rigged with C-4's…throughout the building. These burning halls were going to bring the whole place down to its laps. They couldn't afford to here when that happened.

"Wesker is right, we have to leave...now" in agreement with her commanding officer.

Leon was hushed by the ongoing discussion, tightly gripping Chris's gloved hand which was inactive on his exhausted face, "please, I'm...begging you" the whisper.

The words hit Chris like a tonne of bricks, he had never seen his private friend so debilitated and uncovered. Leon was bearing his heart.

"Chris!" Wesker's vexed voice emphasizing that this dialogue was over.

Chris replenished his gun, "cover me" he rushed towards Dante's swarmed body.

"Chris!" Jill panicked and ran behind him, "stop!"

Chris upraised his firearm, dispelling his hitches with torrents of quick fire. Jill was shelling in upkeep as he restocked his last magazine. It was too chancy to use the weapon at close range in case he struck the man lying comatose. He took out his combat knife and started to cut away at the bulks lost in their eating state. Giving him enough time to wrap an arm around Dante's torso and lurch his body away from their grips. Chris fell backwards, shocked, he couldn't budge this man. He tried again using the entire forte in his arms, he pulled, the veins and biceps propelling as he dragged the man to safety. Jill seized Dante's body and aided to quickly transfer his load.

Wesker adjusted his protective glasses and half-heartedly provided the requisite back-up. Leon hastened past him to obtain Ebony and Ivory, clutching them into his chest before stealing Rebellion. These weapons were a part of Dante and he would never leave them behind. He was perusing the floor for the most vital piece…the pen injection. Leon rubbed his eyes and found it hidden under a guard's body snatching it up inside his hand.

"Leon, get back!" Chris yelled having caught what he was doing, madness.

"Come on!" Wesker bellowed opening the double doors leading to the cafeteria.

Chris and Jill heaved Dante's body inside before helping Wesker blockade the doors shut using the tables and chairs. They wouldn't hold for long but it would give them enough time to provide aid to the two wounded. Chris turned his attention to Leon who was staring at Dante's mutilated flesh. The view left him traumatised and queasy. He couldn't bear to look and slid down the wall still clutching the armaments. Jill removed the basic first aid kit from her vest. She positioned two fingers next to Dante's nose to check his breathing, it was irregular…he would die unassisted. She slipped her CPR mini mask over his face and tilted his arms and legs into a recovery position, getting to work on the crucial bites that were perforating his body. Jill didn't delay in using her only tourniquet and tactical compression to stop his bleeding.

Wesker watched on disgruntled. This was a waste of his valuable time. Having survivors was not a part of his plan. Thus far, he hadn't been able to obtain a sample of that black lifeblood. Chris and Jill were extremely vigilant and managing well under the chaotic circumstances. Wesker couldn't slip away under their strident radar or draw any attention to him. The loud bashing on the doors wouldn't stop, the dead trying to barge their way inside. Wesker toppled more tables and chairs in impatience.

Chris crouched beside Jill, "how bad is he?"

Jill's eyes said it all. She slid off her helmet, mask and goggles.

"He doesn't have much time...the drug has paralysed him".

Her fingers pointing to Dante's neck and the small bruise. "We need to find out exactly what he was given, otherwise he…he, won't make it", saddened.

Jill rested on her knees, "we can't carry him...either" sighing softly in the blondes direction, "you better attend to him, he looks worse...talk to him Chris, calm him down."

Leon had his head down, averting their direction altogether.

Chris knew his partner was right. They couldn't carry this man and it was blatantly clear Leon would refuse to leave him behind. What was he going to do? Chris's eyes appraised the silvery threads, suspecting this twin was the one named David. Leon had been chummier with him?

Jill seized his gun and took out his first aid kit..."Go" understandingly.

Chris treaded towards Leon who hugged his legs into his chest. Chris found the signal odd but noted he was infolding two distinguishing pistols into his body. A weird blade was resting on his side, thinking the Merchant was the source, if only he knew this eminent demonic knife-edge was no ordinary blade. He gently seated in front of Leon, siting his combat boots against the walls, purposely on each sides of his form. It was for his own protection, just in case he lashed out and needed restraining, allowing for the bad news he was about to convey.

Chris's hands reached for the unusual artilleries buried in the folds of the blondes embraces. He had never seen anything like them, custom-made, lovingly autographed…yet the barrels were unfilled. Leon permitted him to rest the hollow pistols to the floors, beside the weighty sword in order to address his gunshot wound. Leon had been lucky the slug had clipped his skin. Chris applied the compress, using the tourniquet to stop the stream of blood. Leon was biting his thumb, a habit he had when he was stressed. Chris examined his forearm next where he had been mauled by one of the dogs, spraying it with antiseptic before dressing his cuts.

Leon spoke, "is...he still alive?"

Chris gazed at Jill who was holding Dante's hand. She was trying to see if he had any movement in his fingers.

"He…is stable", Chris tugged the bindings to see if they were tight enough. Reviewing the knife wound on his hands next.

Leon rubbed Ivory, "I...tried to protect him", smiling, "that bastard saved my life…twice", stopping, "I...don't want him to die here Chris" scared.

Chris didn't know what to say. He had never been the affectionate type. This time the motion came logically, he contained Leon into his figure. The blonde seized him, as if he was still daydreaming.

"You're really here?" He asked for validation from his friend.

Chris grinned, "yeah, you shithead, who else is gonna save your ass".

Leon smirked, "kinda feel like I've heard that once before", voice quaked.

Chris held Leon tighter, "if something would have happened to you...I would never…"

Leon closed the distance between them, pressing his knees against Chris's chest and clutching him steadier, his hand resting behind his neck, "but you came...you always do" grateful, to which his ill at ease friend bumped his brow.

"Rookie" was the affectionate taunt.

His gorgeous partner was watching him from afar when she felt Dante's fingertips suddenly twitch. She felt elevated as his eyes undid sluggishly. 

Jill smiled and spoke the words kindly into his ear, "we're here to help you...your safe" her fingers sliding his falling hair, out of his eyes.

This man was one of the twins she had seen in the photographs, evidently far more striking in person. She could tell he was trying to talk to her so she carefully lifted the mask and sited her face above his moving lips. Dante could only manage to breathe one word.

"Eva".

"Eva?" Jill reacted and could see his eyes sparkling at the address, restoring the breathing aid over his mouth as he lost awareness, still gripping her warm fingertips when she noted Wesker approaching. Their superficial boss had thus far offered little or no support. Jill could tell he had made up his mind about their next move, having weighed this man's condition aloofly, second-guessing the words before they were dispensed gruffly.

"We need to move out" replenishing his gun.

Jill applied a few more bandages to Dante's body, "Sir, we can't leave any survivors behind."

Wesker slid off his helmet, "we can't carry him in these circumstances without sabotaging our own lives. I suggest you recall protocol Ms. Valentine."

Jill hated being addressed by her surname, it felt prescribed and dismissive. Chris had overheard their discussion and so had Leon. He placed an arm about Leon's waist and helped him up. They both came and stood next to Dante. Leon gave Jill the pen injection.

"They used this, if we can get to the infirmary to find the reversal drug he can make it out of here, unassisted".

Jill inspected the drug, it was a high dosage anaesthetic, the quantity lethal enough to kill 50 men. How was this man still clinging to life? Jill knew they would need to find the prototypic drug used to administer a state of consciousness for the body to wean off the effects of the sedative. What dosage would be needed was going to be the tricky part, either way, it was worth a shot. Jill slipped out the map of the prison and outspread. Resting it on the floor she traced the ventilation ducts that would lead to the infirmary from the kitchen. It wasn't far.

"I'll go..." she stated, quickly reading-through her ammo in preparation.

Chris let go of Leon and gripped Jill, "it's too dangerous...those things climb walls and could be inside the ducts" apprehensive.

Jill slipped on her helmet and balaclava, "he will die Chris if we don't reverse the drug effects, plus the ventilations are too small for any of you to climb into" accurate.

Chris stared nervously, "take these too". 

He handed her his magazine, stun grenades and teargas knowing how stubborn she could be.

"Please be careful", it was the same serious look each time they ever split-up.

Jill smiled, "you owe me a meal. I wouldn't want to miss out?"

Chris held her hand and they both walked into the kitchen. He had learned the maps like her. Wesker came and joined them as they examined the duct. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for. The dying prisoner would prove to be the excuse he needed to split from these two and collect a sample of blood from the infected, giving him ample time to trace the blood back to the owner. A male named Akira. Umbrellas interest had grown with each passing day having learned about this man's practical lifeblood. A few undercover agents had inexplicably disappeared in their task to get close enough to extract a feasible sample. Akira was the real reason Wesker had worked so hard to obtain the legal contract to attack this jail. The disorder was proving to be to his gain and was weakening the forbidding enclosure this man had built around him. Akira had proved to be unimpeded, until now. Umbrella Cooperation was willing to pay him a good sum if he was to succeed, having seen the impressive qualities of this lifeblood, he was now in two minds whether he would actually hand it over. Wesker's allegiance was only to himself.

"Take this" he pulled out a spare screwdriver to deal with the nails on the ventilation duct.

Chris and Jill were startled at his abrupt change of mood.

"Thanks" she took it and popped it in her tactical vest.

Wesker cheered, "Chris, I will meet Jill on the other side and clear the path for her".

Chris inspected the map again. There was no way out except for the doors they had just barricaded and presently crawling with the dead.

"It's suicide, we can go together if Jill isn't back in 20", he had already calculated the time it would take for her to touch down and get back.

Wesker smiled mordantly, "are you giving the orders now to your Commanding Officer?"

Chris gritted his fists he couldn't leave Leon alone, not in his current state. It would prove to be deadly if his mind was unclear. He would be endangering himself and others. Friendly fire came to mind.

"Take this" Chris handed him his prized handgun.

Wesker ogled as if it was a foreign entity, "keep it...it has more value in your hands, considering it was a gift".

Chris twirled and held it up in his palm, "take it...Wesker" his eyes earnest.

Wesker laughed low "how considerate...I suppose I should thank you" holstering the gun.

Jill readied her torch, "give me a boost".

Chris positioned both hands together. She nimbly stepped on them and he lifted her up. Jill was erected on his shoulders, loosening the screws making quick work of them, dropping the cover, about to hoist herself inside when Chris held her legs. She stared downwards at him and could see he was disinclined to let her go unaccompanied. She slid her hand over his cheek. Chris curved his head, scrubbing his lips against her fingertips…freeing her from his hold.

"20 minutes Jill and don't lose contact" the demand.

Jill heaved "you got it" sliding her body into the vent. A little wave as she made her way on her stomach and elbows in the constricted space.

Wesker was busy removing the obstacles to the gridlocked doors. Leon stood up to help but Chris held him back pointing to his stomach which was bleeding again. The two of them cleared the path enough for Wesker to glimpse through the opening. The dead had grown quiet, feasting on the flesh of Robertson who was the freshest meat they could find, along with the mongrels. Wesker knew it was his only chance. He held up three fingers. Chris dipped his head and readied his combat knife flipping it in his right hand. They both clasped the entrance wide enough for Wesker to squeeze through. He was on his own. Chris re-shut the doors. He turned around to find Leon placing the sword next to Dante's hands. The pistols were sited on each side of his crown. Chris sat down beside him, weary.

"Are they...his weapons?" The observation hadn't gone unnoticed.

Leon was chomping on his nail in hesitation, "yeah" he replied honestly.

Chris shook his head, "considering what I have seen already I won't even ask how he managed to smuggle these in".

The comment made Leon chuckle remembering what Dante had told him, "I really don't think you would believe me if I told you".

Chris huffed seriously, "try me".

Leon was restrained, "I will, if you can get us out of here…Captain".

Chris sat cross legged, relaxing his edgy body having heard Leon's laughter, "sounds like your quitting this job too…rookie".

Leon slanted his head, "think am justified this time" definitely the worst job he had ever taken.

Chris felt fault, "we will make it out together...I promise", knowing it was what Leon needed to hear, instead of this blithe bantering.

Leon closed his eyes to Chris's words, "dare to hope?"

Chris was definite, "dare to hope".

His eyes drifted towards Dante's face, speculating where his brother was and the younger man who he had yet to meet in person. Were they even alive or one of the dead? Exhaling, hope was all they had left in an obscure place designed to break it.


	22. The Kiss

Jill was making steady progress when she received the call.

"Jill is everything alright?"

She halted, "Chris, I'm almost there, can see the exit up ahead".

Chris was reassured, "good...just…stay on the line".

Jill grabbed the outlet and gazed down the walkway to find four sketchy men clad in riot gear, right outside the infirmary. She listened into their conversation. They weren't warden's judging from their poor body stances and likewise bad attitude.

"Fuck this shit…we need to get the fuck out while we still can", the agitated male vented, removing the weighty RPG from his back and rubbing his shoulders.

A felon handling a grenade launcher pointed his gun at him, "Robertson told us to wait here so man the fuck up and deal. We're going to get paid for this you fucking runt, need money to survive in the real world or are you planning on vending your stinking asshole when you get the fuck out".

Another puffed loudly, prodding his handgun, "why don't we wait half-hour and then leave? We don't owe that twisted motherfucker, just coz, he told us not to eat the food...he's just using us man and might not even pay up" convinced.

The scraggy man with the launcher stepped in front, "looks like you little bitches ain't had any real fun...?"

A large guy on watch joined in the conversation, having turned attention-grabbing. This gent was equipped with a mean looking machine gun.

"Doesn't look like they have?" He blurted noisily.

The one with the RPG hesitated, uneasy, "I killed plenty of these dead mincers" aiming at the burning pile of bodies, "doing me time for identity fraud".

The two men laughed "that don't count for shhiiiittt...I mean a person", elbowing his acquaintance, "I and big Dave here did a few homicides. Snuck in for burglary but enjoyed the residents more".

Jill had another incoming call but she turned off her headset audio to stay hidden. That was when she heard a waddling sound from behind her. She wasn't alone. Peering over her shoulder to find a man with half of his face cubed, his nose dripping blood where the bone was swelling. His arms and legs had either blown up or had been hacked by a blade the cuts were exact as if a butcher had carved them, the upper torso the only part still intact. She flipped over, taking the screwdriver out of her vest and loosening the bolts hurriedly, holding him back with her combat boots as he tried to bite her legs. The bloodthirsty organism exploded out of his inoperable body towards its hottest host.

Jill fired her pistol completely missing, the slug bounced off the steel frames thumping the convicts build and fortunately not her, raising her thighs to prepare her knife. The leech slithered towards her hand, teeth readied to burrow into her exposed skin. Jill brought the knife down on its head, it shrieked, knowing it wasn't dead she left her blade and punched the vent which went crashing to the floor. Sliding out too hastily, inept to adjust her landing, her entire body-weight shifted on her still recuperating ankle, promptly fracturing it, biting back a scream as her foot started to swell grotesquely.

"Well lookie what we have here fellas".

The man with the launcher took off his helmet to expose his face, a Caucasian man in his mid-forties, with an out of fashion goatee sported by riders. The other three men flung and hurled their helmets to uncover their characteristics. The one wielding the RPG was a plain young man in his mid-twenties. The other two men were black, one in his early teens, the other an overweight man in his early fifties. They were gaging Jill's outfit with surprise.

"S.T.A.R.S member just fell from the sky...must be our lucky day", the black man holding the sub machine gun refreshed it against his shoulder, to show off, also known as big John.

Jill remained quiet, her instincts cautioning her to do so.

"Well ain't ya gonna talk" the goatee man spanked her helmet with his gun. When that didn't work he kicked her boot and tears of pain left her eyes but no cry. "Broke it didn't you, well this is what you get for eavesdropping like a motherfucking mole" excited.

The younger man with the RPG whined "let's just...leave him alone, he can't move anyway, these mincers will take care of him".

The goatee chap grinned "let's have some fun first...strip his gear".

Jill thrust the closest man in the gut with her good leg and strained to stand. She staggered and clutched the wall for support, arming her handgun when the wall exploded inches from her body, the rubble and concrete chunks sending her careering to the floors. Her bulletproof gear had saved her life but the man had shot the grenade launcher with the intent to harm not to kill.

"Pick up that fucking weasel he's going to pay for that with his dick".

The younger men stayed back not wanting to be a part of it. The two older men were just getting started. Big John set his gun on the floor and placed Jill's head in a headlock before removing her helmet and balaclava. They were speechless to uncover a stunning female, her eyes holding their gape. Jill had never considered herself any different from the male members of her team but their lust filled eyes could only see a helpless girl in their grips. She loathed men like them. It wasn't the first time she had endured this demeaning look. Being a woman meant everything in the force had been double the work. Most men in this field were sexiest beyond reparation but she had always set her eyes on her personal goals and climbed her way to the top. It was a man's world but Jill had made it her own and rendered the changes needed within the force for others to follow her commendable lead. She was not judged by her good looks but for her merits, earning esteem that had nothing to do with her sexual category.

"Fuck...me blind but I think we found some rare pussy boys" big John wailed and licked Jill's cheek, "this bitch is hot as fuck...am going first" rushed.

"The hell you will hand her over here" Mr. Goatee spoke up and glanced at the younger men, "you two ass pirates hold down her legs, this cunt looks like she will pack a nasty bite".

The unrehearsed younger men obeyed their superiors. Jill's legs were stretched and spread.

Big John spoke, "I heard these star-fuckers been trained in killing men with toothpicks...I bet this bitch still planning on gutting...look at how calm she is", groping her thighs, "wanna make her scream real bad...been a while since I laid eyes on some juicy tits", yanking off her bulletproof vest.

Jill fought back trying to kick the men off her.

Mr. Goatee slated, "can't you two fags even hold her fucking legs"?

The younger men let go as he pushed down on her hostile thighs, taking charge.

"Fuck you" the white Caucasian man started to walk away, throwing his gear and weapons on the floor in non-cooperation. He had had enough.

The young black man followed his lead but decided to protest nevertheless, "my mother didn't raise me to be no rapist", he tut, "this shit ain't right...I expected better from you nigger...you been running with the white crowd too long, coz this is some fucked up shit going down and y'all know white men are devils, everyone know th.."

The man with the goatee strained for Jill's handgun and shot the fledgling in the neck. His friend viewed him fall, "you...you shot him" utterly dumbstruck, receiving three rounds to the chest in answer, slumping dead. Having discarded his bulletproof vest had proved to be the wrong choice.

Their killer retort, "he was being a racist fuck".

Big John laughed at full volume "well no shit, everyone is a racist motherfucker at heart, amen to that. What the fuck we wasting time for talking shit...unwrap her homeboy, my dick is about to explode".

Jill gripped his lunging hands as he tore her top revealing her black bra. The man adjusted his leg and pressed down on her broken ankle to make her submissive. This time she screamed. Her voice echoed through the hallway and someone tilted his head in answer. Soaked to the skin in human blood he was at home in the midst of the chaos he had initiated. Unbeknownst to the two men, the utmost killer was on the stalk and his predacious eyes were now fixed on his ensuing fatalities. His quiet footsteps leading him to the last place his twin had remained.

Vergil was now and perceived the scene idly. The two men resembled vultures as they clawed at the girls' clothing that was fending off their attack rather bravely. She reminded him of someone but he couldn't evoke who. The tip of Yamato scraped the floor as he tested his knife-edge, the concrete flaking like paper. The sound sent a silent tremor through the unwary men. They stared at him not knowing he was death personified. Mato hunted blood and Vergil was glad to indulge his edges never-ending hungers. They were both riding a blood carousel. Rebellions prayers had fallen on deaf ears. The two men stared at him as he projected their next move, with quiet enjoyment.

Big John cupped Jill's breast making her scratch his hand with her fingernails, "a samurai sword...what...in the actual fuck, now I've seen it all?"

The man with the goatee lifted the grenade launcher into his hand and smiled at the size of his gun as he eyed Vergil, "you really should have thought about your weapon of choice there boy...don't bring a sword to a gun fight".

He scrubbed his neck to the kiss of a wind chime beside his ear. Mato had struck, his head fell from his body, jetting blood. Jill shielded her face to find the twin behind the other man who was blaring for his life. Vergil lifted him by his neck, his legs dangling off the floor. Big John's rambling for mercy made Vergil crush his neck slower, taking his time to permit for modest pain as he forced the life out of one unworthy of his blade. The man's legs gave a final spasm and went floppy. Vergil tossed his bulk on the column of burning figures and headed into the infirmary without a second glance. He viewed the room and walked towards the empty bed, tracing it with his hand, Dante had slept here. The other bed was coated in dry blood, it wasn't his brother's but was leaving him alarmed…something didn't feel right. The girl had followed his paths. He overlooked her as she slipped on her tactical vest, covering her bruised chest. She couldn't walk on her left foot and shuffled towards the desk in pain. Vergil decided to leave her when she suddenly spoke.

"Wait...you're looking for your brother?" Her voice was sturdy, despite her ordeal.

Vergil wiped the blood from Yamato on the divan, "you…have seen my twin?"

Jill hopped towards him and sat down on the bed. Vergil stepped back to create distance. Mortal's feared him. Unlike his brother he didn't exude any friendliness. Today was no exception. His blood-spattered form would have sent others absconding but this girl was irregular, she hadn't batted an eye at the two mortals he had so mercilessly slayed. Vergil had always terrified women and children the most. Despite being dressed like his brother and sharing his face, his attendance was enough to make them change directions, so as to not cross his path. Grabbing their precious offspring who would cry at the sight of his human form as if their eyes could see him for the black devil he was. Dante on the other hand would be amenably venerated by mothers via sexual advances and chased by their children for play. It had entertained him in the past but he didn't want it to be a deterrent today. The girl knew Dante's whereabouts and once he had this information he would part ways with her. Vergil knew she wouldn't last long, her injury was debilitating and he didn't want her to slow him down.

Jill was undoing the laces on her boots rapidly. Her foot had swollen to the extent that she had to treat it now. The thought that she had to rely on someone else to assist her or hinder their progress was absurd. Jill clenched the sides of the bed deciding to convey the bad news first. She didn't want to panic him by saying his brother was barely alive. Purposefully avoiding eye contact to hide how serious Dante's ailment was, having remembered his dogged respires.

"He's in trouble, someone has drugged him", glancing at the closets.

"He needs a specific medication, am sure they have it here…he will be alri…"

Vergil gripped her chin indelicately and their eyes struck. Jill was frozen. As a child of eleven she had once visited her aunt for a family vacation. Her father had warned her not to play near the river which had frozen over, offended, having seen her brother's playing there frequently. Jill had made her way to the creek, alone. Patting the frost before stepping on it, the ice disintegrated and she fell inside the freezing liquids. Entombed under the rime and losing air she stopped fighting to find how serene the crystal-clear lagoon was. These eyes were a reminder of that icy brook that no human could conceivably abide in, without acceding to death first, making them a sporadic grandeur to observe this close-up, a place of terrifying beauty. Jill inclined closer undaunted and Vergil let go, lifting Mato with scorching eyes. The intimate weapon was inaudible, having overheard the waves of Rebellions rising pleas that hadn't receded. Vergil parted his lips in rage, wrath, and throbbing agony. Mato had let him down. This particular error was unforgivable.

Jill watched his inexpressive face. He seemed to have taken the news well. She tried to take off her boot and was in pain every time she budged her heel, biting down on her handgun for her next tactic was to tug with both hands when she heard a clink. The gun fell from her mouth, her boot split in half, revealing an unattractive bloated sock. Jill picked up the sliced shoe half's and placed them together before pulling them apart to conclude what her brain had logically resolved. The samurai before her had sliced her boot with some serious ability. He threw the katana with malice and rubbed his crinkled temples.

Jill had never met anyone who had left her in astonishment, reason being, she was surrounded by extremely capable men, her brother's flew fighter jets…her father had engineered the first drone, colleagues like Chris and Wesker who were abnormally skilled with the gears of warfare. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined a gentleman brandishing a secretive razor-blade would beat them all. Her broadened eyes fell on the rejected weapon. Jill had confiscated a fair share of pretty Japanese knife blades. Being a member of S.T.A.R.S she had seen all sorts of unusual weapons and torture methods but this stunning edge resembled a relic. Her fingers impressed the steel and she felt an electric current zap her hand.

The equally amazing owner was probing the cabinets, "I need the name of the medicine".

Jill didn't hear his fluent say and placed her burning finger to her mouth.

Vergil's eyes tapered, "do you not hear me mortal…the name of the medication my brother needs and his location" infuriated.

Jill hopped over to his side and bumped into him, losing her footing. Vergil didn't steady her annoyed by the undesired bodily contact, flinching as she gripped his shoulder to correct her weight. Jill didn't notice his awkwardness, too busy inspecting the cabinets. The doctor who was seemingly dead had structured the medicines accurately, this drug had several tags, her eyes scanning, lips reading, fingers sliding and stopping on the one she needed.

"This is it" she held up the translucent liquid handing it to Vergil who viewed it passionately.

"Do you know how to administer this drug?" He had only asked to see if the girl was still useful to him.

Jill smeared her chin of blood, "am not a doctor but all S.T.A.R.S members have advanced first aid training. I can manage, so don't worry" squeezing his shoulder hearteningly and taking two more bottles of the same medicine, just in case.

Jill secured her precious cargo inside her tactical vest. Crouching on her butt she found empty injections wrapped in plastic, the safest and cleanest way to inject the quantity. The last item up for collection was the first aid kit and alcohol wipes. Jill dropped them by mistake she was feeling weak and dizzy. The swelling on her broken ankle was beginning to take its toll on her body. She searched the contents of another sideboard for painkillers. Finding the strongest ones, she tore the box edgily and popped two in her mouth, she tried to stand up but the aching was excruciating. Vergil surveyed her fraught form with abhor but the girl refuted any help, making him somewhat inquisitive.

Jill took in a deep breath, arranging her frame to stand, seizing the bed and heaving her body off the ground and towards the sink, gulping mouthfuls of water to swallow the unpleasant pills. Splashing her face a few times to mend, she turned to find an empty room. The blade was still discarded on the floor. The man hadn't taken her gun either. She picked up both items. This blade had saved her life. Jill hadn't thanked the owner, in all the mess, who was even more fascinating. This time she allowed a pained noise to escape her mouth as she crept out into the flickering passageway. Staring up at the vent knowing she couldn't take the same route back in her current condition. Her only option was to go around the west block past the main cells. The place was going to be creeping with those things but what choice did she have?

The S.T.A.R.S officer made her way with caution past the burning pillar of dead. Mato resting inside her hand, excluded, the katana was grief-stricken and finding security in her warm touch. The only reason this girl was able to hold this sacred hilt. Vergil was the only one who could exercise this highest power and Mato would cease to exist without him, dejected. Jill gripped firmer as she turned the corner to find a group of creatures eating the entrails of a dead guard. There was no way past them, she checked her magazine and rested against the wall, rationally framing the kill in her mind when she bashed into Vergil's shoulder that had appeared out of thin air.

"Where did you come from?" She couldn't hide the surprise in her voice and eyes.

His jawbone clamped in reaction, not at her, but the blade, "why did you bring...this with you?"

Vergil's mannerism and speech made Jill pause. It had been a while since she had met a guy who oozed such decorum and poise. Jill couldn't imagine him with any other weapon beside this blade, which is the reason she hadn't left it behind, either that, or her unstable environment and the drugs were making her irrational and foggy.

"Why did you throw it away?" She countered politely peering at the diners and secretly pleased her quiet rescuer had turned up again.

Vergil didn't feel the need to answer. Mato was urgently humming his name in reverie pleading for clemency, the reason he had left the room.

Jill lifted the katana towards him, "take it…I have a feeling you don't do guns and we need to get to the cafeteria. There plenty of these guys waiting for us".

Vergil rubbed his radiant fingertips, "I have no need for this weapon and neither do I wish to see it, ever again" virulent.

His unkind speech stung Mato which stopped beseeching. His master had made up his mind, one that couldn't be changed. Mato would adhere to his wish and become an inanimate object, an ordinary blade of no worth or value…non-entity.

Jill could tell he didn't mean his words this blade was his preferred firearm, testing, "fine, I will use it then" smiling.

She whistled stridently, having learned from Chris who had been a great teacher. The four patrons lifted their heads with interest. People and their choice of weapons were the only allies in their difficult field of work. Everyone had a prized set that had never let them down and no other would be permitted to use. Funnily enough, hers had always been her lucky lock picks which didn't quite fit the bill. They growled and ran towards her. Jill rested her throbbing foot on the floor to find Vergil lifting her with one arm about her knees. There was certain mildness in his touch as if he was handling a trifling butterfly, extracting Yamato from her hand.

Jill flushed with embarrassment. She didn't struggle when she realized he was even more distrait having to do this, his face holding the same countenance as hers. They were both out of their comfort zones, their current circumstances driving the reigns out of their hands. This time Jill got a bird's eye view of his crazy abilities. The incisions were made with years of crafting and expertise, a level of devotion to his art was etched in each supple strike. Body and soul extended into the steel, the way a painter handles a brush, the difference in canvass, he was delivering a tantalizing picture of death, with their blood. Jill was watching his performance the way one would be sitting in a gallery beholding a masterpiece from another epoch.

Vergil walked in long strides striking down anything which enthused. His fury was rapt towards the ones that had no life left. Dante was waiting. Vergil wouldn't stop until he reached him. He had no choice but to defend the girl and wield Mato, both cases he had no substitute. The thought of having to use a firearm had reviled him and the girl would die unaided. His devil was becoming roused by the scent of blood. Vergil couldn't afford to lose control to his carnal side that had to be enclosed until the task was complete. The girl kept staring at him as if she could see his devil, his pupils were revolving crimson but they were almost there. The last passageway leading to the cafeteria was theirs to take. That was when he felt a warmish hand gliding through his locks. Vergil scowled at her meddling. Jill stopped, sensing his moodiness.

She indicated "you have a piece of ear in your hair".

Vergil searched his mane and found the "bit", flinging. The girl was stranger than he had first contemplated.

Jill smiled, "thank you for what you did before. I didn't catch your name?" He didn't reply. Jill knew he fit the quiet category kind of guy and didn't want to press him too hard. Maybe his twin would be the right tactic. "You're brother mentioned a name before he lost consciousness".

Jill documented the mild conversion over his stern expression, the look of a worried older brother for a younger spoilt sibling. She would know, having three of them and being the youngest and only girl. It made her like him even more. "Eva", she spoke the name clearly and he stopped dead in his tracks. His arm tightened painfully around her legs, crushing. He was hurt and she could feel it.

Concerned "Am sorry I...just thought it might be important?"

He was quiet. His silence was intimidating.

Jill felt his arm giving way. Her foot exploding in pain along with her hands as they slammed on the floor. Vergil stepped away, finally remembering who she reminded him of, Eva. Jill shouted at him. He wasn't listening, unable to face her. How many times had he hurt his mortal mother as a child when she had tried to hold him? Vergil would scratch her hand knowing she didn't heal. Eva would hide these from Sparda knowing Vergil would be harshly punished. She had only stopped her efforts to reduce the stress she was causing her son, always thinking of his well-being. At night she would come to his room as he fabricated sleep, her eyes taking in his tiny form with unconditional love she couldn't shower on him with her hands. Was this the reason he was the way he is, a monster, a seed planted in the soil without nurture destined to create an ugly rigid weed by nature. Jill raised her gun and shot the dead heading his way as he stood like he had been hit by a truck. Jill dragged herself closer and gripped his leg. Vergil stared downwards.

"Your brother is on the other side of these doors and we need to reach him...right now". Her round blue eyes were well-founded, her voice forceful.

Vergil readied his lethal blade as the girl continued to discharge, causing a stampede. Vergil carved the air, the invisible cuts moving at the speed of light and dismembering a few heads. He teleported and vanished behind the mass of frames. Jill was feeling faint and had simply made-up that he had flown through the air. She stopped firing. The dead no longer concerned with her. They were after the amalgam that was affecting them to rip at each other's throats, as he craftily used their bodies and appetite to his advantage, turning the assembly into a blood orgy. Vergil cut and hacked the mountain of bodies. The parasites had nowhere to hide from his knife-edge, Mato working itself to death to recompense for the previous mistake in hope of his master's forgiveness. It ripped into their flesh with new tenacity. By the time he was finished, he was the only one left standing. Mato slightly rose as he smeared his gory face. The black splatters were now visible and had nowhere to hide. Vergil crouched so the girl would not see his terrifying form, triggering his devil and setting everything ablaze.

Jill rested her gun on the floor, unable to keep up with what she was observing. Where had the fire come from? She stared at the flames, "hey...where are you" uneasy.

Vergil was standing behind her and made her jolt, "how did you?"

Jill was lifted into the air bridal style. She inspected his body and couldn't tell if he had been hurt or burned, she couldn't see his flesh, he was dripping in so much blood, glancing at the now impassable corridor, "how will we get to the doors?" The bodies and fire were blocking their path.

"Close your eyes" his even voice necessitated.

Jill noted his eyelashes were also white, like his brows. The twins hadn't dyed their hair silver. Vergil waited for her to obey. Jill did as she was told. He had earned her respect and she didn't want to refuse or question his first and only request of her. She closed her eyes, the instant she did her stomach turned inwards as if she was riding a hurtling rollercoaster, holding onto him tightly, unsure what was happening to her body, a loud bang as they crashed through the obstructed doors. When she opened her eyes it was to Chris pointing a machine gun and Leon casing Dante's body and handling a large sword. The three of them stared at each other in panic. Vergil placed Jill on the floor as his eyes fell on Dante. The sight of his diminishing sibling made him lose his grip on Mato which fell out of his hand.

Chris raced to Jill's side, "you OK?" His hands moved to her foot.

"Am fine Chris, just my ankle" she held back his hand.

"Where is Wesker?" He was the only one missing from their group.

Chris ground his teeth "he went after you", switching on his audio anxiously, "Wesker come in" met with silence, trying again to no avail.

Jill took out the medication bottles and ripped the plastic with her teeth to obtain the injection. She filled the needle with an estimate of the probable dosage required when she noted Vergil was standing over her, looking deadly pale. She gripped his bloodied hand.

"Talk to him...he can hear you" considerate.

Vergil felt a thick drop leaving his eye. It was a blood tear. His devil was crying. The way the hybrids had. Devil's never cried or so he had alleged. Two dark streaks of plasma merged his drenched face. Leon was the only one who noticed these tears, seeing Dante like this was ripping Vergil's heart out. The blood tears wouldn't stop. The spectacle left him crestfallen. The marking on his neck was cutting him. He pushed down on it. Jill was scrubbing Dante's skin with the alcohol wipes and decided to introduce the medication, subcutaneously, into his stomach, rather than directly into his bloodstream in case it made his condition worse.

"Chris I need you to pinch his skin here".

Chris followed her hand and readied Dante's skin, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. He was the only one with sturdy hands. Jill allowed one drop to leave the needle before injecting the liquid gradually, holding Dante's wrist in her other hand with two fingers for his faint heartbeats. Jill knew the medication would take time to take effect. Something they couldn't afford. A deafening explosion rocked them. A C-4 had exploded close by, shaking the foundations of the old prison and blocking another way out. Jill slipped the needle out and applied a cotton ball to halt the bleeding. They waited. Vergil sat down next to her and lifted Dante's body into his arms.

"Wait, you can't move him" she alerted.

Vergil didn't listen he could see and hear Dante's slowing breathes. Adjusting his body carefully between his legs, he cradled the younger into his essence. Removing the mask and sliding his thumb over his lips, kissing his ear and jaw repeatedly before speaking the verses lovingly.

"Brother...I leave you for a few hours and this is what happens" he admonished his careless sibling.

Leon, Chris, and Jill fell silent. The tenderness by which the words were spoken had touched the three of them. Jill let go of Dante's wrist as Vergil rested his hand beside his face.

"Am here now...I'm sorry, for keeping you waiting" hurt.

Vergil pressed his lips against Dante's and planted a tender kiss, savouring the warmth and softness of the only rims he had ever known. He had often watched families together to see if siblings shared this level of familiarity with one another. Vergil had never seen anyone else in the human realm openly greet each other this way, apart from the youngest child to a parent. So he had never questioned his brother's over affection having become inured to Dante's traces that he couldn't be without. Vergil kissed the weakening tresses to awaken. He wouldn't leave this place without Dante no matter how long it took, gliding his jawbone with the back of his bloodied fingertips. Yamato was calling to him. He ignored his blade as it cried, warning him to leave. Yamato didn't love anyone else more than Vergil. Not even Dante, his first love. What was coming for his master was the power of the sun, a star that gave life to this world but also had the power to end it. A rival that was utterly invincible. Vergil's eyes never left Dante as he spoke.

"The three of you need to leave…something is coming and you are no match for this power" warning.

Leon was the first to refuse, "am staying...with you".

Chris settled "we can't leave any survivors behind, if we leave, it'll be together" he held Vergil's stare.

Jill was staring at the katana, her fingers fondling the delicate silk. Mato stopped crying "it's decided then, we're not going anywhere", removing her sock to bandage her deformed foot.

Chris held her hand and took over. He was the only one she allowed to pamper her like this. The second man was sitting beside her who she had just met and didn't even know the name of. They sat together with infinite questions playing on their minds.

Vergil knew these humans would be the first to die if they persisted with him. The hybrid was on his way. The vision he had was a caveat for what had already passed between them. The final call for help before Nero was lost to darkness. He had been the cause of the hybrids sorrow, the person that had pushed him over the edge. The sniffling child he had punished so severely and wholly destroyed in the process. Vergil stared at Leon who met his restless watch. He had already guessed he was responsible for saving his brother. The marking on his collar was a blood allegiance. Dante's devil and the human had exchanged blood of their own free will establishing a blood pact, something unheard of between a human and a devil. Proving him wrong about mortals, they were stronger and more resourceful than he had ever imagined. He leaned closer to review the human's pledge. Leon closed his eyes. Vergil's fingers were easing his burning skin. If only he could see the unseen wings that were now pulsing sapphires…the colour of Vergil's devil.

"You must go" the elder outlined.

"I can't", Leon refuted "not without the three of you" he held Vergil's hand to still himself.

Vergil slanted to extract the quietened Ivory, "than take a part of us with you...brother".

Leon's tears fell from his eyes at the affectionate way he had been addressed. Vergil had accepted him. He also understood why the twin handguns were Dante's favourite weapons. Vergil was going to divide them. Ebony wept in despair, Ivory remained soundless. Chris was still dressing Jill's ankle, they hadn't heard the painful exchange. Leon was in two minds but his hand went to Ivory which he gripped decisively having made his choice.

"I will…go…only if you promise me Vergil you will find Nero and get him out of here. You have to take him with you…you're the only one who can. He's afraid to be alone".

Nero and Dante had each admitted their love for Vergil who was still unconscious of their emotional states. Leon had felt and discerned what they hid inside their hearts, infinite love, and didn't want either of them getting hurt. Leon was parting the two in Vergil's capable hands, the only one strong enough to shoulder this complex bond, knowing there was no other in the world that could save them now.

Vergil stared out at the corridor. This was a promise he couldn't keep. The hybrid and his world were about to collide. One of them was fated to die. Akira had sworn it would be the hybrid, he wasn't so sure. Vergil had entered this prison to eradicate Nero but had always done the contrary, saving him with his own blood, embryonic inclinations which he had dismissed as empathy but in truth was his growing attachment to the young devil who he still wished to protect. Nero didn't just remind Vergil of Dante but himself. They were more alike despite their dissimilar natures. It was the reason the hybrid had fallen in love with him and love was not so problematic to recognize behind those blue eyes.

"I will...save him" he deceits.

Leon bowed his forehead against Vergil's brow. He had learned the gesture from Dante. Vergil permitted the intimate connection and returned the greeting his father Sparda had ordained as a show of deference and care. Pressing his hand behind Leon's neck he elucidated.

"The marking on your neck are his wings, you have chosen to be a part of Dante and as such they will not fade until your feelings for him do."

Leon smirked, "you're wrong, the mark was made by Nero, you and Dante share the same blood. I'm a cop at heart, piecing things together...is my job", he steadied his rocky voice, this felt like a farewell and he wasn't ready to let go. For this lingering mark belonged to all three.

Vergil rested his hand over the arching wings, "than you know you don't have a choice but to do as I ask of you, without question. You would be unwise to risk the two with you."

Leon stared at Chris, accepting. He couldn't defy Vergil, none of them could. He caressed Dante's cheek and spoke the parting words rapidly into his ear, "I got your gun...better find me if you want it back, games not over yet" pecking Dante's stubble and rising shakily.

Chris quickly finished bandaging Jill's foot and lifted her by her waist, "let's move out" he waited for Vergil who remained seated. Chris eyes fell on Leon for enlightenment.

Leon tightened his hold on Ivory to find the courage to walk away, "he's staying behind…" forcing his way to the doors. Chris and Jill stood in wonder.

"Leave" Vergil ordered avoiding their acquainted eyes.

Jill looked to Chris for help who was thoughtfully analysing the situation. Leon would never leave like this, not after how hard he had battled to rescue these men. There had to be a good reason for why he had changed his mind so unexpectedly and more importantly agreed to it. Chris knew whatever they had debated had concluded between them. It wasn't the first time he had been excluded from having any tangible contribution but this time he wasn't annoyed. He had no arms left to offer the twins, glancing at his bulletproof vest about to remove it when Vergil mediated.

"You will need it to make your way out. The two with you are your accountability. I trust you will not fail in your task to defend them".

Chris had never imagined that they would meet again and part like this. The first impression of this twin had been one of vanity but he had misinterpreted his conducts. In a world full of bogus people, the man in front didn't hide who he was. Even he was finding it hard to leave these men behind. It was against everything he stood for. Leon's bandages were soaked in fresh blood and Jill needed immediate medical attention. They couldn't afford to stay any longer, not with this place about to turn into ruins. Chris forced a step away. So many good men had lost their lives today. He wanted this nightmare to be over and couldn't afford to lose the ones he had entered this abyss for.

"I will get them out safely" Chris nod and gripped his partner's waist, as she continued to watch Vergil.

"This isn't right Chris…we can't leave them here" she pressed him knowing he would listen to her and intervene, he always did. Leon sank his head and held Ivory into his chest.

Vergil overheard the girl delaying the two men. She wouldn't let them leave and they had to escape now or perish. He raised his voice so she would hear him.

"You wished to know my name. If I tell you, you must consent?"

The girl turned, lured by his mesmerizing words. He met her expressive eyes...they were the same as Eva's, "Vergil" he told.

"Vergil", Jill repeated precisely with a growing smile.

"Jill", she acquainted sweetly.

Chris could have sworn his name was Vincent? Which would mean the one named David! Leon turned away knowing he had caught the variance.

Jill's eyes glided towards Yamato, "don't forget your katana Vergil or you will regret it...we will bring back help".

Vergil turned away perceptive she had silently accepted his decision, resting his face on Dante's lips to see if he was still sentient. He knew there was only one way to save him now, with his own lifeblood. He didn't know if the drug was working or it had come too late. Jill glanced over her shoulder as they made their way out to catch one last glimpse of her rescuer. Vergil was parting his brothers' mouth with his fingers as he bit into his lips, fresh blood trickled down his chin and fell on his twins sleeping face. Cradling his head with both hands, he kissed his rims, his tongue making its way inside his mouth, well versed in its illicit venture. Jill's mouth parted, not in repulsion but in anomalous faith, from where she stood it was as if he was giving his brother the kiss of life. Chris held her firmer, Leon took her other arm and slipped it around his shoulder, refusing to look back, certain, he would see them again, this was not their last goodbye. They started to make their escape.

Vergil continued their heated kiss, biting down on his tongue ensuring the cascading flow of plasma wouldn't cease, not until Dante's heart was pacing with his, feeding. He excavated their kiss and was lost to it, digging deeper for a sign that this kiss like so many before it would be repaid. Seconds, minutes, hours, a day, a lifetime, it wouldn't matter how long it took. Vergil would wait patiently for Dante to answer, until there was not a single drop of blood left in his body. He heard the soft laughter of a girl and her approaching footsteps as she hummed pleasantly with a heavenly voice. She was singing and skipping over the dead. Halting on one she recognised all too well, Robertson. She laughed harmoniously and stood on top of his corpse, her bare feet bathed in blood, her way of saying ciao as she shut his open mouth with her toe.

"At least you did something right before you checked out. I knew I could always count on you to be the world's utmost asshole" delirious.

She didn't want to soil her white dress with his sordid blood and removed the red ribbon from her aching hair. She flicked it side to side and started to hum another tune, pulling at the heart strings of the one that was following her submissively. Akira had matched the form of Nero's darling with aptness. He actually liked this girl's appearance, although plain, she had a nice voice and virtuousness. To be more precise, it was the only way to keep her volatile little fox under control. She waited for her little devil to catch up…he seemed to thrive on watching her babies perish under his flames, one atom at a time, burning their living cells from the inside as they disintegrated in cutesy sparkles. Peeved by his work she had tried to stop him but eventually gave up knowing, they, like all things, could be replaced with something, bigger, better, and stronger. It was the way of the world, to keep recommencing and prevailing, like a true parasite. Akira watched Nero turn the corner, his dark eyes were hard to recite, the dark hair she liked, styling it to match Vergil's. It suited the younger man who matched the older man's persona in his rekindled recognition of his true self. Nero was going to be Vergil's standby.

"Kyrie", he longed and strode towards her.

Akira held out her hands knowing she was safe in this costume, everybody else was going to get royally fucked, in particular, the jackal. The thought made her titter, she couldn't wait. Her heart was about to burst in bliss and the two of them had missed Vergil so very much. Akira steered the young devil in the direction of the man that had stolen their combined hearts, to find him kissing...another man...his freaking brother to be precise. How immoral. The first day they had met she had dreamt of a perverted sexual scenario like this but as it played out before her she got zero gratification. This is what others would term "jealousy" and it was an unpleasant emotion she could really do without. Akira raised the hems of her dress and showed off her hourglass figure in disapproval.

"Being in love sure does suck".

Nero traced her legs with his hands, his face expressionless. Akira propped her annoyed frame against his, raising both arms about his neck, giving him full admittance to her flesh. Nero's hands meandered under her dress making her tremble and shudder, knees bending in pleasure as he found her sweet spot.

Akira griped, "if only we could all have a quartet, in the past I would have said something along those lines, but now Vergil I have learned the first rule of true love, one cannot share their cherished with another" jabbing a confrontational finger towards the jackal.

Nero's free hand slipped upwards, a thumb and finger resting on her nipples as he rubbed them. Vergil raised his head and licked his bloodied lips knowing what was imminent. The astute demon had found his flaw and would exploit. Akira gazed upon Dante with fulfillment as she kissed Nero's blistering lips. She wiped her spit over his face, decreeing her first command.

"Burn him…Nero" she requested in a timorous voice.

"Dante", Nero's voice was weightier, dark eyes sinking on his target, a small smile creeping over his lips. His devil arm that had been the earth's sky blue was now a black void in space. Dante's body began to blister. Akira yelped loudly and covered Nero's eyes, the purple flames were preordained death, she had been eager for the pink coloured ones, wanting a medium rare steak, not crisped. She bowed her head to Vergil courteously.

"Sorry about that, he is a little…out of control" telling.

Vergil observed his brother's flesh under attack, eyes turning a murderous red. He would bring hell on earth if Dante died. The throne he had left behind would be claimed to bring carnage and obliteration to the living. This world would decease under his rule and rage, until there was nothing left. He held onto the only person who could pull him back from the dark side and keep him in his rationalities. Vergil closed his eyes and kissed his brother's lips wilder to still his infuriated soul. The purple flames never branded his skin. He had found his answer and pacified his hot-blooded vehemence. He lowered Dante gradually to the floors and out of his shielding arms.

Vergil stood up squarely. Akira whispered another command and the flames died about Dante's severely burned and smoking skin. Nero slid down the dress from her right shoulder and started to suckle her full breast. Akira moaned in trance. The trophy that she had worked so hard to obtain was hers for the taking. The wolf was about to lose his pride and he would come readily to her. She embraced Nero's face as he pleasured her. The cute little fox was going to be Vergil's downfall. Akira had known all along Vergil liked the hybrid. She laughed and took in his rather aggressive stare. The dangerous blue orbs were worth the deadly venture.

Akira fussed, "you're such a good big brother but shouldn't you be…on your knees, as vowed?

Vergil didn't waver, stepping over Dante he went down on his laps in front of his brother's body, removing his bloody top to reveal his elegant, untainted…flesh. He pressed his nails to his chest and made four vertical lines down his apex, his celestial blood gushing.

"Have me as you will…demon" he sneered.

The voice, the verse, these eyes, the cue made Akira climax. Vergil belonged only to her. She was rocked by a long-awaited orgasm, unable to achieve one since she had fatefully rested her eyes on him and had fallen in love. Even if she was to align all the stars in the cosmos for this handsome devil, his eyes would continue to look down on her from above. Vergil was an exceptional heart-breaker and she couldn't contend with the likes of the jackal nor the boy on fire. The only way Akira could ever own this devil, body and soul, was to consume him alive. Love was painful to stomach, she gulped at the prospects.


	23. The Fire-starter

Akira lowered to her knees, hands closed together as if she was about to collect a sanctified exposé from an archangel. Fatefully she would. Her hand reached for Vergil's chest, dunking a finger in the honey, elating her orifices by imbibing on her digit, eyes irresolute as she savoured Vergil's quintessence. How could she hide her gluttony with one greedy hand inside the cookie jar? Akira's plethora for Vergil would die with him, it was the only way she could subsist and continue guzzling others, with lust.

"Glorious", she aired, "absolutely glorious...Son of Sparda".

"I didn't expect anything less from the blood of the greatest devil that has ever lived", hands quivering in desire and fear.

This blood had been the cause of the split in the netherworld. The ravening incubus relaxed her body against Vergil's, the way two lovers would, her white dress blemished by his illustrious blood. Gliding her cheeks over his, wanting to be considerate, she could, by no means, treat him any other way…valuing.

"I know this form isn't good enough for you...but what choice do I have. You decline to domesticate and take me by your side" she kissed his neck, exuded, "I don't like it when you're so quiet…let me hear your voice, love" ragging to no avail.

Akira fretted and clasped Vergil's chin "am grudging, why you get all the love in the world and remain the only one unscathed. Even your blade cries for you" drawing an invisible heart over his chest, "you're truly astonishing."

The evil spirit plunged her entire hand inside her mouth and started to drag out her ballistic missile, a giant centipede begun its scramble. Its antlers and legs clustered in hair-raising rapidity, body a fatal red and black, antennae detecting. Akira struck its bundled frame with her tongue.

"How about it handsome, we make you cry for a change...huh?"

Vergil didn't answer, gazing at the possessed youth as he treaded closer. The hybrid could only distinguish this girl. His gentle claw trekked her tresses with piety. The fiends look was one the hybrid was well acquainted with, a preceding lover. The centipede crawled down Vergil's shoulder, coiling above his heart, legs and claws pinching his skin tightly, the glands distributing a paralysing fluid. It was as if acid was being propelled through his bloodstream, the veins on his physique protruding as they expanded making him blink rapidly in intense pain.

Akira didn't want to take any risks, Vergil was one violent wolf and still unsafe. Now that he was collared she didn't hold back eating into his flesh, leaving her marks all over his upper body, piercing his nipples, ribs, torso, craving to abolish his fair, perfect skin, redecorating his complexion with her fangs forming cavernous lesions to drain him swiftly. The perfume and palate staggering, she wished to bathe in his blood.

Vergil should have been in agony but his eyes continued to be seductive, encouraging her to rip more of his flesh, arrogant until the very end. Akira propped closer and took a large portion of his shoulder, powerless to resist him, biting off more than she could chew, his blood flowing down his spine fusing around his legs. Akira juddered in pain and pleasure. This obsessed incubus didn't want things to conclude between them. Vergil was exciting, if only they could be more. She embraced him and took another nibble from his neck, ducking the veins as the centipede worked its magic. Akira masticated his flesh in downheartedness.

"Do you hate me this much?"

Chewing, "have I not shown myself worthy of you" trying once more to win him over.

What they could have attained together was nibbling at her. Having destroyed her family and revenue there was no homecoming and here she was still feeling like crap, just another demon that had finished on Vergil's ostensibly long one-sided love list. The truth hurt. He was a dark prince in the demon empire and she could never be his princess or prince for that matter. Akira's eyes enlarged in bewilderment as Vergil slipped her bloody hair behind her ear and out of her mouth. The long indulgent fingers embraced her cheek.

"Demons can love?" Vergil examined.

Akira stopped chomping, he had warmed her skin. She rested her hand on her cheek in shock which was still tingling to find the cold barrel of Ebony garnishing her temple. Akira had let her guard slip. Dante had his arm strapped across Vergil's chest and was slurping his bleeding neck, gulping the healing potion in large avaricious swigs, lips and cheek an unpleasant red as he tilted his head back in panting stupor. The elder had purposely stayed close to his body, perceptive the demon would eat him and Dante would get a helping of his remedial plasma.

Dante puffed "didn't I tell you fugly...you can't have him" positive.

Akira perceived the crazy look in his eyes as he shot her. The bullet never reached her skin. Nero had safeguarded her with his devil bringer, the floor where the brother's lay abolished by a meteor of spitfire. Vergil teleported with Dante before it could come into contact with them. They appeared a few metres away as Nero enfolded Akira inside his arms amorously.

Dante palmed his thigh which was caught on fire from the discharge, "uh, Verge, what the fringing hell happened to the kid's hair…it looks...bad...real bad. Black doesn't suit him" commented earnestly.

The lurid devil had by some means managed to pluck Rebellion and Ebony on the way out, his pistol tucked halfway in his pants. Dante sliced the centipede from Vergil's chest, it plummeted and writhed in two half's. The hunter scowled and trod on it with his eyes shut, detesting these spine-tingling crawlies.

"That ugly croc seems to like spurting these cockroaches" he brushed his arms and swiped at his shoulder freaked convinced something might be scuttling on him too.

Vergil eyed crossly, "didn't I tell you Dante to keep him away from this demon". The centipedes legs were still implanted in his flesh, he tried to remove them but they vanished inside his skin leaving it stinging.

Dante smooched his lips pugnaciously, "I missed you too" snuggling his fuming twin, making his glower deepen.

Dante felt rejuvenated, letting go to clean his brother's lips of even more blood, scanning the flooring for Ivory, feeling extremely weird with one revolver and acquitting, "if I remember correctly Verge I left you with the kid, also, where the heck is my other half?"

Vergil collected his mane, calm, "I gave it to the one you stated you had a man predilection for".

Dante tapped his chin not really knowing what that word meant, "Blondie...you gave my gun to...the blonde and he left the get-together" highly unsatisfied..."that really sucks Verge...who he leaved with?"

The hunter was snooping…than again, now was not the time for a catch-up session. You snooze you lose, set to supply some serious ass-kicking. Grappling the obnoxious crocodile and making a luxury handbag from its butt-end was enough to keep him attentive on the job at hand. Hounding Kennedy would have to sadly wait. The kid was going to be their main problem.

"Guess we got a real fight on our hands now".

Nero was espying him.

Vergil inspected his chest, ridges creased…his corporeal lesions were strangely not curing. He bid his healing blood and was in anguish each time. The centipede had released something venomous before it had died and the blue devil was unaware that his blood cells had been gravely poisoned.

Akira was amused, "oops" she divulges.

"Mato" Vergil christened and strained his hands.

Yamato hovered in the air but didn't come to his side.

The blade sung, "Vergil", but wouldn't draw any closer.

Rebellion recited to Yamato. The katana was misplacing its life-force having no motive to linger, without his master. The heartbroken edge was surrendering to melancholy death. The end looming as it understood the nadirs of true despondency. The swamp that was known as love was sinking the razor in a watery grave. Mato would die with his master. Rebellion bellowed, skulls flashing, praising Mato to delay a little longer, for his master would never let adversity befall his twin or his equally precious devil arm. Rebel's faith in Dante was indestructible.

Vergil's forehead broke out in yellow secretion, the skin under his eyes turning an unnatural shade of purple. He held his trunk and locked his eyes in an effort to adjust his crumbling body with his unbreakable mind. Years of perpetual meditation to endure, long enough, to slaughter this demon and set the tragic hybrid free. It was what his father would have wanted of him. From the moment they had entered this pen everything had been amassed against them, fighting their inescapable fates to alter their destinies path. He had come to believe in Sparda's every extrapolative verse, even though he had no way of proving them to be true. Is this what they call faith? Vergil stood-up straight.

"Yamato", he claimed again.

The torn katana refused to submit to his fighting will and soared into Dante's outspread hand inconsolable. His brother walked towards him, eyes holding the same overwhelmed stare as the day they had lost Eva.

"Verge", Dante's distrait voice and eyes were considering his frame.

"Yoo-hoo", Akira waved, "we're getting bored over here" she slipped Nero's arms around her midriff, content with her work.

"Hey you, jackal, if you're too stupid to figure it out on your own let me explain." She swanked pleasantly "that enchanting centipede is indeed extraordinary, acts like a kamikaze when killed, pumping the scarcest form of poison which specifically attacks curative blood."

Dante gritted and barred the space between their identical frames. The elder snubbed to repose his burdens against the younger, beginning to lose awareness. The hunter wrapped his deteriorating build so that he may rest, their equivalent blades were hushed. Vergil was dying and they all knew. Mato would shadow his master but not until his last resolve was established.

"You can't…" the hunter caressed Vergil's lips, if only he could draw this poison into his despicable being.

Unsteady hand latent over his heart where he had made the fatal cut. Why was he so reckless, so hasty, so fucking impulsive...these disorderly traits would cost him dearly. Why was Vergil meant to be with a useless brother like him? In the past he had accepted himself for the idiot he was. Vergil's eyes and words had mirrored his true self. Dante had never measured himself equal to Vergil, the reason he had never openly admitted his love. He had never felt good enough. Thankful, that Vergil's simplistic view of the world had allowed him to remain so close, accepted. Guarding him from the world, so no one else would see his transformed flora, in fear, he would lose him to another. Dante had erected a cage he never wanted to escape, ensnared and encompassing himself to the solitary individual who was virtuous of his sick one-sided feelings that he could never kill.

Vergil comprised the distressed red devil inside his devoted arms in a strange reverse of the defining moment they had come together. His mother had smiled at him, knowing she had finally reached his heart. It was Dante's hands that had nurtured him. The withered weed had found light and water from a gardener that had devoted his life for this rotting root. How could the flower not bloom for the eyes of the one who had ceaselessly cared and tended for him?

"Brother, I can hear your thoughts" detecting.

Dante had constantly disguised his feelings from Vergil, the only reason he had learned how to switch them off, unable to reply.

Akira tooted, "Vergil, I wouldn't get so close to him, he is shoddier than the two of us combined and undoubtedly getting a hard-on as we speak...better check" wiggling her brows.

Vergil felt Dante's arms crushing his body, wrath and fright were driving out of his brother's skin. Dante lifted his shaky hands and covered Vergil's ear in hope he wouldn't hear what Akira would say next, sheltering them with the hums of the two blades which were droning their names in love.

Akira caressed Nero's mouth, "I promised my fox I would tell him what made you so angry in the kitchen. You're little fucked up secret...remember?"

Dante's appearance held savagery as Akira elevated her voice for the world to hear, "you're clingy brother has his eye set on...fucking you, that's right, let me say it once more Vergil with a capital 'F'...fucking incest...how uncivilized".

Akira attuned the strap of her dress, "if there is one thing I don't do is lie, I said to him it must be hard being around someone 24/7 that they could never have and how many times he has jerked off behind your back".

Akira snort "a lifetime of jacking off is the answer...that's why he has to whore himself out to others and has his heart set only on you...what a stupid bitch, he's eviler than me" odious.

Dante felt Vergil's frame coarsen, he held on forcefully inept to let go. Vergil's stare scared him, narrating betrayal. The blue devils arms cast-off Dante's which were still outspread creating the essential detachment between their bodies. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand as his chest begun to heave, body trying to battle and eject the venom circulating his cells. Vergil hurled only his healing blood. Dante held his shoulders in fright. Vergil struck his hand.

"Don't", voice barren of sentiment…face his uncompromising self.

Dante's strides weakened. Eyes injured. The blades almost dropping out of his grip but they clasped his hands to protect him, placing both over his face in absolute disgrace, dishonour, and misery. Standing desperate like a child who had misplaced all that was precious and had utterly collapsed. Vergil's eyes had rejected him as a friend, brother and family. The person he had learned to hide so well from had seen him for what he truly was, a coward, who had been living a lie. The elastic band of trust had finally snapped.

"Verge", he called his brother's name with a heavy heart, "I...can...explain bro" he requested in murmurs, touching his hair in distress as he stood stunned. "I can explain" he smiled and stepped forward to find Vergil taking an agonizing step back.

Dante clutched his chest knowing this small distance was an impassable rift. "I can change Verge...please just, don't look at me...like that", he strode in reverse wanting to prove his words true. "I don't want to lose you again...not you" shattered.

The red devil begged, "just...don't hate me Verge, please...don't..." he had fallen so low in his own eyes. 

"I know I was wrong to want you, I'm sorry that I...fell in love...with you" tracing the golden silk ribbon the way Vergil always did. "I'd die…without you" desperate.

Yamato suddenly whispered to him. The rapier knew the demons true intent, to weaken it's foe by attacking the heart. Mato wouldn't let Dante fall apart, humming his name for the very first time. Dante raised his head and held Mato into his heavy chest. The blade was placating as it stirred his skin...he stopped trembling and kissed the hilt. Mato sung a lullaby to ease his hurting…this achieved rapier wouldn't let anyone break their prized household.

Vergil held a table to continue standing. The ground where he stood was absent. His heart about to burst, the venom driving it or maybe it was beating in cadence with Dante's. His vision obscuring as the room dimmed. Vergil stared at his cursed body which had afflicted even his brother. He was to blame for sullying the sacred bond of brotherhood. Missing all the signs of what Dante had truly wanted of him. Vergil had grown blind to his siblings touch. He rubbed his eyes as warm tears coasted. Vergil's first kiss was from his brother's lips. What would Eva and Sparda have thought of this so called love? He had destroyed his twin with his infected shadow. The last surviving member of their family was now absent. The man standing in front was a total stranger he didn't recognize whose past confessions sailed in the caves of his mind, leaving him stranded.

"I will wait...until you understand".

The twin's melodramatic reactions were exactly what Akira wanted. She had the brother's in her clutches and was ready to strike, giving her pet her next command, "kill him Nero" pointing squarely at the jackal who had disturbed her bewitching banquet.

Nero's devil arm rose. The flames of the sun burned lustrously, his beautiful face restful as he sent another meteor towards Dante who was a sitting duck. The two blades made an X to swerve the comet, foiling the demons plot. The fireball went crashing through the roof. These majestic devil arms wouldn't be going down without a fight. Rebellion whizzed towards Nero in a powerful stinger, the steel unable to penetrate his arm which came up with little effort. Mato stayed back susurrating to Dante in demonic dialect to protect what was most sacred. He was listening, Mato had reposed the impending tempest as it excelled a tender blue, soothing, for it was the colour of the devil they equally esteemed. Yamato was reminding Dante of the one that reciprocally shared this tint.

"Nero", he countered with courage.

Mato blessed his resolution, for only the younger devil could save his irreplaceable owner.

Dante didn't delay, teleporting behind Nero, both blades in full swing as Rebellion found his hand. He was wielding ice and fire to match the kid's speed, only to be met with thin air, unable to land a single assault. Nero was quicker, dark eyes comprehending his every move, toying. He had become Dante's shadow. The qualified devil rotated Rebellion to cover the vicinity, wielding Mato side to side. Nero appeared in the air above him, devil arm founding a colossal fist which he brought down in a crushing blow. Dante triggered but wasn't fast enough, wing clipped under the ensnaring light, snagging. The roaring devil struck the youth with fierce fires discharged from his talons, making him snarl. Nero's devil arm drank these flames, his wears burning away as he became what he had hated the most...a raging fire...self-immolation.

The trapped devil soared to get away. Nero's devil bringer wedged his leg, the raging fires igniting his body. A moth caught in a flame. The dark angel burned. Nero sent him plunging towards the earth leaving jagged caverns as he pulverized, straddling his conquered figure with affluence to batter his victim. The protective scales of Dante's devil armour were crumbling under each devastating blow as Nero's bringer struck him like a sledgehammer. Dante's body was blinking amid his human skin and devil-trigger, yet he had Nero exactly where he wanted. He de-triggered embracing the kid, setting himself alight for the sake of Vergil, his human flesh melting in the magma that was the adolescence, his lifeblood too slow in renewing inside a molten pit, his figure flaking away. He held the kid the way he had inside those shared visions. Mato and Rebellion had plummeted from his hands, the heat setting their steel boiling. Dante clung to his redeemer.

"Hey kid, I know you love him too, please...save him" the hope.

Nero paused and leaned into Dante's lips, kissing them ever so slowly, spreading his mouth wide open with his tongue so the infernos could find their road of entry. Nero was about to kill Dante's devil, his true inner strength. Dante's eyes lined with blood, recognising death between the teen's loving lips. "Vergil" he conveyed the unique name Nero had failed to recollect, the name etched in their souls. The teen snarled and prevented a phantom sword from spearing his heart. Vergil sent a line in the shape of a projectile. Expression imprinted with cold rage. Nero flung Dante's charred remains against the wall, burying him under the wreckage, striking down the flying daggers with his bringer, rising to face his latest rival.

Akira sat down on a chair, tired. Vergil was buckling under the poison. Watching him croak was leaving her divided. This game was attesting to be painful but there was no letting up. Vergil was hers. With his death she could wash her hands of this love business forever, besides he was too spicy not to finish. Swinging her legs she lifted her dress and watched the fight from a safe distance before deciding on how to order her steak.

"Nero, honey can you please…hmm, you don't have to kill this one, just fry him."

"Kyrie" Nero answered.

Akira rolled her eyes, "I take that as a yes than" scratching her leg irritably growing hungry.

Vergil had lost his vision. Dante had called his name and he had responded. "Mato" the katana flew into his right hand melting his skin. Rebellion lay still powerless to fight. Vergil closed his eyes and heeded by instinct, Nero was behind him, he spun his blade a thousand cuts ricocheted about his body, establishing an imperceptible barrier, teleporting to avoid being struck by a fireball he had overheard spiralling mid-air, keeping his ears fixed on the uneven inhalations of the young hybrid which had intensified along with his heartbeats. Something was unnerving Nero. Vergil deflected three more asteroids as the ground detonated next to his feet mislaying equilibrium. Vergil bounded his body with phantom swords which charged at the adolescence that was moving with the wind. His dark form was stalking the elder, the heat from his body so penetrating that Vergil hands were dripping with wetness, losing his grip.

"Dante" Vergil called his brother in the dark.

Nero stopped moving and growled close by. Vergil motioned with his hands, the phantom blades were shattering as they missed their evasive enemy. Mato managing his sightless strikes, the blade drawing the heat from Nero's body setting it blazing in an effort to use these flames against his adversary. Nero swayed, spun and twirled. The closer he came the faster his heart hurdled. Vergil discerned, he couldn't bring the hybrid down in this state and he had to save Dante. His brother was near and in suffering.

"Mato" he ordered. The blade refused, fending off his relentless attacker.

"Yamato" Vergil touched the burning tip, the flames died.

"You're forgiven" he absolved his blade of all previous sins. Mato conformed to his master's will and ceased.

Nero's devil bringer wrapped Vergil's neck dragging him into his frame, setting him on fire. Vergil felt hate, resentment and acrimony inside these flames as they annihilated him. Nero's claws crushing his neck, years of hurt, anger, enmity that the world had perpetrated upon a pure heart, poverty that had never ceased, a child that had been rained with stones, destitute of love to be rendered a void. Vergil didn't fight, hurling Mato so his devoted blade would live. The hybrids heart was tearing dangerously…Vergil was the source, someplace Nero was kindling. The young devil leaned into his mouth, his breathes fierier than the rampant flames, he licked Vergil's lips hesitantly, kissing them the way he had Dante's.

The devil bringer untied its noose, the flames precipitated as the youth paused, eventually biting his rims. Eyes locked. Vergil grit and widened his mouth, the hybrid sighed as the elder's fangs crushed his mouth, burned hand yanking his jet-black tresses, making the younger growl in yen. Vergil was challenging his reactions, like he always did. Nero's tongue circled his crevices, jaw moving animatedly, physique craving, teeth clashing…frantic. Vergil's kindly hand freed Nero's mane and sashayed over his jaw. Nero was rendered static as Vergil interpreted his passions. Gasping, alone, despairing, iron ropes bound and constricted his will. A malevolent force he couldn't break away from was binding him. Yet his clawed hand came up warily and he laid it to rest over his forgotten saviour's in slumbering gratitude. Nero was locked inside his own head and these tender hands were the key, osculating the familiar palm amid his lips edgily.

"Nero" Vergil combined their temples and brushed his tresses down within his caring fingertips that were guiding his blindness. The adolescence leaned into his touches, wanting more...so much more. Vergil's lips tightened in awareness as they both stood on the balcony, he watched his mother dance but this time he didn't ignore the one clinging tightly to him, perceptive, that he may never get a second chance for atonement. Nero had always wanted to be closer to him, for his stare to soften the way it did for Dante, for him to hold a hand tenderly next to his cheek. Vergil was giving Nero what he desired and craved the most in the world, a loving touch. He had never imagined that these filthy hands would be required to nurture another so brittle and hopeless.

Vergil kissed Nero's temple whose hands limped to his sides. Embracing the secluded, solitary teenager who had desperately tried to adhere to him the first day they had met. Vergil was inclosing Nero the way he did Dante. The trembling teen lowered his head onto his shoulder. Why hadn't he observed...that the hybrid and Dante shared the same eyes, baring their souls to one unworthy of this blind veneration? Vergil had never feared anything before but the intricacies and complexities of their love frightened him the most.

Vergil expressed regret, "I was much too hard on you...forgive me" apologetic.

He had always spoken so harshly to Nero who had foolishly held onto his every word and action? The youth raised his head. Vergil couldn't see the warped smile engrained on his lips as he took another bite from his mouth. Vergil knew the regret had come too late. The youth had given up hope…of ever being loved and accepted by another.

Akira stopped itching when the flames died, the smoke obscuring the room making her cough uncomfortably. Jumping off the table and prancing to Nero's side that had done a job well done. Vergil was unrecognisable, the poison wouldn't let him heal and he had been roasting in the oven nicely, still pink and sizzling, she waved her hand in his face and knew he was blind as a bat.

Akira tapped Nero's shoulder, "that's enough...let him go" jealous that she was the only one who hadn't canoodled the blue devil and was still waiting in line, pissed.

Nero didn't stop, both hands cupping Vergil's face graspingly whose skin gashed open as his claws dug in.

Akira gripped his devil arm, "I said that's enough".

Vergil was hers and she had worked too hard to let him slip away. Nero turned to her and gripped her neck with his human hand. Akira's eyes widened in fright, she had to think hastily. "Nero...your hurting me..." she cried crocodile tears and rested her hand on top of his.

Nero released Vergil slowly who fell to the floor unable to stand. He took Akira inside his scorching arms, burning her skin. Little fox was erratic and demonstrating to be quite a pest but she needed him and would have to put up with it. Vergil was worth some soreness.

Nero scratched his cheek making it bleed, "I would never hurt...you Kyrie" shaking uncontrollably.

Akira slapped his naked butt with both hands, "good boy...now step aside" piqued.

Vergil was dragging his dying body towards the source of his suicidal pact. Dante was near. He was inches away from the wreckage that entombed his own heart, removing the rubble with both hands. Akira sat down on his back pinning him to the bottom. She lay down on top of his naked body and curled his shoulders.

"Now, before I was rudely interposed for the second time..." Akira ripped a chunk from the back of his neck. The meat tasted even better. In this form she had to act like a lady and chew her bites, deciding to take her sweet time.

Nero continued to slash his skin. The vague scent wouldn't leave him. He tore at his chest where he had lost the warmth, the places their skin had come together…shedding away. Vergil's scent endured and so did his traces. The young devil growled and jerked masses of his hair where the slender fingers had laid their impressive mark, hands that held healing for one who had the power to heal all but himself. Nero drew his devil arm it was once the colour of his eyes, tearing away violently at the black scales. A white ball rolled near his feet. Nero went down on one knee to pick it up. A tiny girl was hiding from him under a table. Her pink skirt and hands tucked tightly as she peeped. Nero smiled and lifted the ball towards her, the girl looked away horrified, her frightened eyes looking to escape him. He was scaring her.

"Don't be afraid..." he called, holding the ball in the air, his devil arm freeing a weak light between the shadowy scales that had tried to conquer it.

Nero held out his human hand and she raised her head suspiciously. One finger creating a flower bud on the flooring but his devil arm had caught her curious attention. She stood and the ball fell from his hands. Kyrie strode towards him, her dress flowing with every forgiving step. Nero stared up at her as she restored his head onto her stomach, warm hands gliding through his hair, holding him into her figure. Nero draped his arms around her waist in despair. Kyrie had found him, she always did, in his time of need, in his darkest hour.

"Nero", she smiled down on him.

"I promised to always remain by your side…remember" smearing his tears for the very last time.

Kyrie crouched, seizing her ball into her tiny hands. Nero let go of the small girl who followed him everywhere, so he never felt alone.

"I have to go now" as she bounces her ball.

"You made new friends" very happy.

The blissful little girl stood and scratched her nose impersonating him cheekily, popping her ball under one arm and tightening her ponytail to leave but not before poking her tongue at the person she really didn't like...Akira. Nero smiled and turned his head towards Vergil. Something repugnant was eating his flesh; four arms were holding him in a deadly lock, the upper half that of a male, the lower was that of a female, two robust breasts just below the male chest, the face gaunt and skeleton with threatening teeth. Wings that of a bats, embedded with razor sharp bones, muscled legs with clawed feet resembling something primal, a long thick scorpion tail whipping end to end with cutthroat scales and a stinger. Nero had never seen something so repellent. He was seeing the bottomless pit for what it truly was. Ears and eyes exposed to the whispers of a blade calling to him, beseeching him to awaken from his spell. Yamato knew this demons true name…"Abaddon".

Akira giggled, "how annoying...would you knock it off you silly blade. She rested her elbow on Vergil's head, "is there anyone not in love with my man", she was hit by an express fireball sending her hurtling into the wall.

Nero erected, eyes brimming red. Devil arm animated, pulses insidious, shedding his darkened skin. Sapphire flames flickered and licked his form. Thousands of poisonous locusts flew from the newest rummage. Nero raised his arm, a wave of fire the size of a tsunamis abolished the swarm that stood no chance. Akira flew in the air to avoid passing away, resting a hand over her hip, wings flapping, curved tail swinging, warped teeth forming a grin on one that remained faceless.

"My, my, little fox is growing up" she taunt, both male and female voice merged to create a shrewd sound.

Her scorpion tail lashed out for his flesh, the ground devastated where he had stood, she spun her tail directing the next blow on Vergil's defenceless figure. Nero protected him with his devil bringer, pulling him into his arms. The elder was unconscious, his flesh decaying in yellow patches. The burns on his body were cutting to the bone. He had been the one to make these on Vergil's skin, convulsing, having remembered Dante was still buried under the rubble...lifeless, terrified.

Akira hissed and groomed her horns with her forked tongue, "that's right...you killed his brother...wayward child".

She charged at him, soaring through the air, trying to catch him while he was weak to collide with his bringer which threw her with such force her teeth were knocked straight out of her mouth. Akira slammed hard into the tables and chairs halting her voyage. She laughed loudly expelling a fractured fang. A replacement followed. Sitting up, oddly relaxed, she rested her face on her hand, licking her own breasts to heal her cuts.

"You're cursed my dear...everything you touch and love will meets its horrible end, by your hands" intuitive "no one can survive you".

Akira lay down on her stomach, legs folded together, going up and down as she tried to get under his skin. He was too strong to take head-on and had to be weakened in order to recapture control.

"He doesn't have much time...he will die, just like your beloved did, how...fitting".

Akira yawned "what now...foxy…go ahead, kill him or watch him die, your choice. I can wait?"

Nero laid his claw above Vergil's heart, a broken mess. Everyone he had touched with love had died. He couldn't afford to lose this man. If he did, there was no reason for this world to ever exist, the scent that reminded him of his childhood would die and so would everyone else. Nero had come to dislike his very existence. Yearning to burn this corrupt world, in expectation, it would rise from the ashes to be a better place. Was that his true purpose…to be the one to end this unjust sphere?

Akira lifted her tail sneakily towards her gullible target. The tip readied with poisonous bones, shaped as deadly darts. Aiming for the young devils open heart, even he wouldn't survive her poison. Akira's words had caused dread and doubt. Love was lawlessness and fear venom of the most intoxicating kind, one that had no antidote. They flew towards him only to meet the head of Rebellion. Dante deflected, whirling his knife-edge tastefully, body still smouldering. Akira screeched in fury at the sight of the unruly jackal. The pleased hunter rested on one knee and smiled catching his breathes.

"I don't die that easy", appraising rudely, "think this look suits you much better, an ugly bug" beaming.

Nero cried, he had never been so grateful to see the old man, "you…" breathing again.

Dante ruffled his hair "its OK kid...taken healthier thrashings than the one you supplied while crazed" comforting.

Nero bobbed his head he had never been so indebted, "am sorry...Dante".

Dante hugged the youth into his chest, keeping a close eye on Akira's next move, "it's alright...I believe in you kid, you don't have to be afraid of your powers", cupping his weeping face, "use your flames...to save Verge" with persuasion, "trust who you are..."

Dante shielded the two as Akira flicked her tail, dispensing hundreds of sharpened bones unable to contain her frenzy. Flying towards them, tail whipping. Dante met her face-to-face to keep her diverted, lighting up the dark room with Ebony. Rebel roaring exalted, lifted by hands that were vowing retribution.

Nero bit his lips anxiously, familiar suffocation and shadows looking to break within. Kyrie lay dying in his arms, her lips holding a loving smile. He had never understood why she had stared at him this way. Nero evoked his mother as she rocked him gently in her arms, reminding him of a story about a unique flower that blossoms in nightfall. All the adversity it faces to reach out of the dark water and flourish in the light. It was time to find out who he really was, to accept his past and clasp his uncertain future, to let go of all the hate he had sealed away, to choose to trek a different path. Nero elevated Vergil and sited his lips on the man who had become his strength. It was time to quit running, to face him...for the one he wanted to forever trail. Nero laid Vergil's hand onto his cheek and believed in his devil, in himself, the persevering sapphire firestorms exploded.

Dante and Akira were caught in the blast, the light blinding. Dante fell on his stomach. Akira's skin was dissolving. These cobalt infernos only offered healing to the just. She tried to flee into the darkness when she was nailed to the wall. Rebellion delivered a lethal stinger of its own accord into her gut. Mato nailed her hand which she had lifted to eliminate the pinning blade, plunging deeper, restraining her for punishment. Akira shielded her face with her other hand as the light infiltrated every dark corner of the old prison, cleansing and purifying a place that had killed so many souls, all claimed by the demon that had once ruled this hell, crystal light enraptured as if a star had burst and was leaving a trail of shimmering dust. Dante was flooded and opened his palms in glory. Tears left his eyes as all the pain in his heart was washed away from his skin, leaving him vacuumed inside nirvana, surrounded in state of grace as if he had arrived at the gates of paradise. An overwhelming joy of unspeakable depths was brimming, his heart couldn't take.

"Dante" Eva was calling his name.

"Mom", he smiled incredulously, raising his hand as she emerged beside him.

Eva leaned into her sons face and tenderly kissed his forehead, holding up her prized stilettos, she had finally found them, giggling at the funny location her spoilt son had chosen.

Dante's tears streamed, "Sparda" he wanted to know why his father was absent.

Eva whispered, "tell him to return home...you're both safe, my sons are safe" she placed her hand to her lips and blew a kiss in Vergil's direction. He would be the one to reunite their broken family, her beautiful form seemingly bleached into the light, vanishing.

Chris, Jill and Leon were almost near the emergency staircase when they heard a bang unlike any other. It wasn't an explosion from the C-4…this sound was different. They turned their heads towards the direction of the thundering blast.

"Move", Chris stressed as they picked up speed.

Leon stilled as the dead came swarming down the strip, they were fleeing, crawling on the walls and floors heading straight for the three. Chris raised his gun but they rushed past, scurrying away, having sensed death. The deceased that were lagging behind released their mouths to shriek, the light shooting out of their eyes as they degenerated. The cause was heading their way, cerulean infernos. Leon went down on his laps at the vision and smiled, there was nowhere left to run. He raised his hands and waited to be submersed inside this effervescent radiance that had badly addicted him.

"Leon!" Chris yelled and covered his figure as the flames circulated.

Jill watched on wide-eyed, Leon had no protective gear from these blazes, stunned at how fast everything had taken place…they were burned alive. "Chris!" She cried, losing her will to escape, closing her eyes in loss and squeezing her hands tightly.

Jill was holding her father's hand and standing next to the picturesque creek when she was thumped on the head by a snowball; her brother's primed their weapons and blared. Jill joined in, laughing so hard she had a stitch.

Leon untied his eyes to find his father about to leave him, correcting his hat and securing his gun. His discreet son opened the door for him, taking in the sight of the man he had refused to let go. He was saying goodbye to his father. This time his pop beamed and restored a hand on his shoulder. The kind words of reassurance he whispered were the ones Leon had always believed in. 

"I know dad...I know" he hugged his father who slapped his cheek affectionately and took his leave.

Chris was searching for the two people who were likely going to be the cause of him never reaching the fair age of 30. Claire and Leon had called his mobile to alert him that they were too drunk to come home. "Shitheads", he muttered under his breathe when he noted the only place he hadn't checked for the devil's, their local dumpster. Chris pinched his nose shut and didn't have to boost the covers.

Claire sprang up, "surprise" she tried to kiss his cheek.

Chris shoved her smelly face away, "you two" upset.

Leon on the other hand didn't bother greeting him, evidently snoozing comfortably in the rubbish heap.

Claire belched, "all him", she passed the blame on her unlucky fall guy. Chris knew his sister well.

Leon sluggishly stirred, "I love you...I really do" stinking worse than Claire having freely rolled around in filth.

Chris dragged him awake, "its 3:00 a.m., I expected better from you". The serious tone the disappointed voice practically made Leon nod his head shamelessly in agreement, leaving Chris shaking his head.

"It was Claire...I swear" resting one hand on his Adam's apple as if he was swearing by oath. When they were kids this was their way of affirming the truth. Chris exhaled.

Leon attempted to crawl out with dignity, falling face first on the floor for his exertions. Claire laughed and clapped her hands at his cheap shenanigans. Chris raised his hand to his mouth to prevent a low chuckle, how did he end up being responsible for these two? The liable one grouped his precious cargo and directed them towards their ride home. They followed obediently like small pups and he froze. He could never imagine his life without them?

Leon gripped his shoulder from behind, eyes and tresses snowy, "it's alright Chris...open your eyes".

Chris unlocked his tightly squeezed eyes, clasping Leon who was radiating. He had never seen him so happy. Jill came over and joined in, she wasn't limping her foot was fully cured, along with Leon's numerous wounds. Chris traced his chest and couldn't believe his eyes. Jill laughed and squeezed the two men tightly unable to understand her good spirits and not knowing whether they were dead or still alive?

"This is..is this real?" Widening her palms as the blazes lit up their joyful expressions.

Leon beamed, "oh yeah, it's real alright".

He knew Nero had finally found Vergil and Dante, broken free of his shackles and these bars, ready to fly. Vergil had kept his promise, his own heart aching to be by their side but he knew he would have to wait a little longer. Ivory was whispering in triumph. Leon picked up the cannon and held it next to his ear, silvery tresses devouring a few more inches of his dirty blonde, not that he minded. Leon had no plans to hand over Ivory to its rightful owner, not until he played nice…chuckling.

Dante hoisted and walked through the clouds of endless white, eyes widened in disbelief as he spotted the kid shrinking his wings that had enveloped Vergil's figure. Dante traced them curiously they replicated the shades of Nero's superb limb, cyan, blue and red...liking.

"Well what do you know...you do have a pair kid?" He stared at Vergil who was fast asleep, skin sparkling as if he had just enjoyed a full on beauty session.

Nero looked muddled, "didn't think I had any old man" he lifted his shoulder and poked them inquisitively making Dante chuckle.

The nude devil lay down on his arm and squeezed Vergil's jaw to reproduce an unusual fish impression, "hey Verge, had your beauty sleep?"

Vergil's eyes unlocked, death stare engaged, one infuriated hand throttling the smirking miscreant. Teeth gnawed in anger, "Dante" the fall-out.

The said devil clogged, "I see...you're still pissed about what fugly said, we can talk about it later when you're in a better mood" being cute.

Vergil let go reluctantly and rose. Four eyes boring into his flesh as he walked towards the adjacent wall, lengthy legs gorgeously synchronized. Rebel and Mato were still detaining Akira who observed a dried carcass.

Bony teeth chattered together as Vergil extracted Mato, "is it too late for an apology my love...I may have gotten swept away in my desires, it can happen to the best of us" explaining.

Vergil relaxed a finger on Akira's rickety chest, "didn't you agree to meet your fate by my hands, demon?"

Akira whimpered as Yamato pierced her skin, "I will tear your heart from your body and watch you...eat it" energetic.

Mato vibrated in lust, Vergil was holding the blade with love.

Akira squealed, "little fox, I saved you...remember, we were becoming good friends".

Nero and Dante joined Vergil. Akira had never been so frightened to be walled by three extremely hunky and nude men. Dante leaned on one arm, stroking Rebellion which was still lodged in Akira's stomach. The jackal's eyes held no mercy, matching Vergil's unblinking gaze, Mato waiting for the mandate. Nero's wings were merging into his shoulders. Akira noticed he was the same height as the twins, having grown in stature, lips and cheeks a rosy pink. He looked angelic and she was humbled by his eyes, unable to encounter them. The youth inspected her body…she was harmless having lost all her powers, gently altered.

"Hate is all I've ever known...not anymore" murmured mercifully.

Dante and Vergil stared at each other when Nero turned away, "hey kid, what the hell does that mean? Aren't you going to wait till we dismember our pal over here"? He tapped Akira's skeleton head, "undeniably the highpoint of my day" committed.

Nero examined his throbbing limb, "it's OK to show some humanity...even to demons old man".

Dante's mouth broadened in astonishment but he didn't comeback, deep-thinking.

Vergil was not persuaded, "how can you show such leniency to one wholly contemptible, this demon doesn't deserve your sympathy". Mato plunged deeper finding Akira's heart who groaned in sting.

Nero turned to face his deliverer, "the flames didn't kill her Vergil" unstinting.

The elder considered and stepped away, rapacious eyes deciding between her life and death. The changing surge in his eyes was hard to decode. Her breathe caught in her mouth as he swiftly extracted his rapier. Akira rested a bony hand on her heart in blow. Dante gripped Rebel's hilt and withdrew his blade, she fell on her butt. He pointed Rebellion as a criticism towards the sexy males.

"Know what I think? The two of you are still high on those flames. Verge's blood could have saved her skeletal ass…this reptile doesn't have a decent bone in her bony body".

Dante liked his excellent use of tongue-in-cheek terminology but actually felt the same way. It had been a long shitty night and the thought of hacking the old croc wasn't as appealing as he had first thought, fixing Ebony alongside his grinning face. Ivory was broadcasting to him like a walkie-talkie, making him snigger evilly.

"So that's who you left with Blondie...the muscled guy huh" he shot the floor where Akira was sitting making her flinch, "must be your lucky day fugly, seeing as we're all in such a darn good mood".

Dante strode over to cape his arms around Vergil and Nero's shoulder in cheerfulness. Vergil removed his arm making Dante pout. Akira could only watch on in defeat, she was not herself. What had they done to her? It couldn't be, her heart ached…she didn't want them to leave her behind.

"Vergil" she screeched dreadfully.

He curved his head, "if you wish to live demon, don't make the mistake of following us".

Her dry eyes stung painfully and something warm fell on her chest, a tear, she was terrified by it and wiped it from her skin, "what is…this" she panicked to find the corridor empty. They had left her. Akira tried to stand but she couldn't. How could she not follow these enthralling devils, there was nowhere else left to go.

"Hmph, how incredibly moving" a man's strong voice rang from the vicinity.

Akira collected and smiled, "show yourself, I thought I was the only one who likes to skulk in the shadows".

Wesker's black boots crunched the devastated canteen, removing his helmet. His bare arms had been scorched by the blue flames as he had failed to outclass them…burning through his gear.

Akira noticed and drawled "so you're that pesky agent sent in by that silly Cooperation known as Umbrella, what a dumb name". She dragged herself closer, "you're handsome, had I known you will be this racy I would have offered myself on a salver". Lying down on her back she traced his boots with a bony finger, "I don't usually look like this, had my heartbroken" justifying her dreadful state.

Wesker lifted his boot and rested it on her skull, "do you think I care for your love story".

Akira squeezed her hand in pain, "a vacancy has opened for a new pet and you happen to fit the bill perfectly. I can take you under my wings…fancy the prospects?"

Wesker tsk, "do you really think I can be someone's...pet?" Ridicule sodden in every expression "how worthless" he intoned sliding his boot side to side punitively, turning on his speaker-mic. 

"I have secured the...test subject, requesting the Collector".

Akira didn't like the sound of the Collector and wriggled to get away from a human that held a stench worse than any demon. Wesker crushed her weakened skull which begun to fragment. 

"Ouch, it hurts…you're so mean" she wailed trying to spur sympathy.

Wesker held the empty tubes. The eerie flames had destroyed all his samples from the infected. The plague wiped out by the unfamiliar navy conflagrations. He had only caught a glimpse of the three men passing the area, having been blinded and made temporarily deaf from the bang, leaving their faces imperceptible. All he had to work with was that they were indistinguishable triplets and unquestionably captives, instincts arousing suspicion that they had something to do with the events of the last 24 hours. He would need to investigate further. Wesker caught the asymmetrical static on his radio and raised his boot. The Collector was here.

Wesker up-stretched his darkened arm and kept his tone polite, "you're running late", producing a tablet and scanning Akira.

A tattooed hand slid over his skin curing it. The owner sniffed his hand and the air for the rosemary scent of the ones that had left it behind, the rarest creation in the entire demon realm, the infamous hybrids. Umbrella had their satellite pointed at the specimens and he was the engineer who had been surreptitiously hired to bring them in. No easy task by any means and even Wesker was not in the loop. They were rare gemstones that only a few knew about…acquiring them was the cause for his budding collection of sprites or so he would like them to ruminate? The busy Collector lit a cigarette, removing his black hoody. Full sleeve black inked tattoos embroidered both arms consisting of numbers, statistics, data and formulas. Dark hair casing both eyes, 6 piercings adorning each ear with all the metals of the human realm, a pair of fitted black jeans completing his casual ensemble. Face no older than nineteen. He classified the demon quickly, scraping his chipped black nail polish to complement his gothic look. Skulled silver rings ornamenting both thumbs.

"Abaddon, commands locust and is also known as the destroyer and pit. Used to be the Demon King of the seventh circle of hell, got bored, shifted, and is now known as Akira, feasts chiefly on human flesh of the…dark soul variety".

Wesker scrunched his teeth, "I didn't ask for the family tree, just the number…if you please".

The Collector puffed the smoke making 'O's and moistened his lips, flashing his pierced tongue with a rare diamond stud, Ace of Spades tattoo on his left cheek glimmering red.

"309, I can manage the passage, no need for the assistant's either, so tell the mortals to stay the fuck back. Oh and Albert, you're done for the day right, so bugger off already and handle the administration like a good boy" bossing.

Wesker repressed his offence for the young hoodlum who enjoyed provoking him and punched in the numbers. The two had been working together for the past eight months. On the Umbrella pyramid this bratty demon was sitting prettily at the top of the ladder and was his superior. Wesker would play along with Umbrella for as long as it took, exhausting their explorations and piloting his own. Demonic blood held Godly power. Using it in a practical way was proving to be a disappointment. Most demons were unsophisticated and disobliging. Umbrella's trials to merge human and demonic blood had miscarried horribly, generating transmutations, flesh eating viruses and other impractical oddities. Wesker was waiting for the final innovation before he put it to test on his own body. The existence of carriers of both bloods was becoming factual. Forbearance would prove to be profitable. He would happily wait a little longer, a smile sneaking on his lips as he held Chris's handgun.

Wesker excused himself "I shall take my leave then, have a date to keep".

Akira whipped her bony tail agitated "working for Homo sapiens to catch your own kind, you always were a jaded fuck Azazel, Chief of Metals and Minerals" she ridiculed having seen through his deceptive character. "Low and behold the original Alchemist has fallen to a new shit low, still having daddy issues?" She laughed seeing a flicker of anger in his leer.

He bent and stubbed the cigarette out on her face, "inculcating men how to make weapons is my vice, as yours is ingesting their meat, the only modification is that I can corrupt and twist them to my heart's content, it is fun".

Azazel pushed his locks back from his hypnotic eyes, "daddy issues...huh, if only you knew" electrified.

Akira couldn't look away from his possessing yellow sapphires…doomed.

The puzzling ace vied, "get ready Abaddon, coz you're fucked" grinning madly.


	24. The Sunset

Leon, Chris and Jill safely reached the prison's gates. The age-old edifice wasn't going to survive to see a new dawn. Chris operated the buttons, the entrances sliding. The rendezvous point was up ahead, hearing the approaching rumble of two black hawks spiralling the black night. They heard a series of eruptions as the C-4's started their steady chain reaction, the sound and strength sending shock-waves through their bodies and the shaky grounds. They were facing the grim reality, the numinous indigo fires, those otherworldly creatures, their friends, all gone, along with any evidence of what they had perceived. How were they going to report these daunting events to their directors when they were still trying to follow them in their minds? What had been real and what they had imagined was disjointed.

Jill mirrored, "we'll think of something Chris".

His partner didn't want him to take the blame for what had tragically gone down. No one could have guessed what this prison had really been hiding and that they would be the only ones coming out alive. They would figure something out, eventually. Leon was getting rid of his replacement bandages when Chris gripped his neck.

"What's this...when did you get a tattoo" questioning.

The marking had resurfaced, visibly perceptible. The wings venerated the colours of the devils he had become quite at home with. There was no way to hide this particular blemish.

Leon mapped his neck, "a tattoo?"

Gravely itching, recalling it was probably the latest gift imparted on him by the brutes that had derelict his hair and perchance his mortal life. The trio were undeniably big trouble and definitely on the opposite side of law enforcement. Simpering favourably, he couldn't wait to see what it looked like. Ivory heating his cold hand, the firearm held Dante's far away heat.

Chris let go when he received an incoming call.

"Jose?" He had hoped his friend had miraculously escaped.

Wesker's smooth voice conveyed otherwise "sorry to disappoint you Chris but it's me".

Chris breathed, "Wesker you're...alright, we're at the rendezvous…can you make it" anxious.

Wesker set, "I'll be there in five. We need to discuss the debriefing details".

"I recommend the two of you let me report the occurrence here" the reason for the call.

Chris gazed at Leon who was spaced-out, maybe it was better if he let Wesker handle things for the time being, he needed a break, "sure thing, we can go over it tonight with..."

Wesker cut in, "no need, I want you and Jill to take the rest of the week off. That's a directive".

Chris declined, "out of the question. These men were my responsibility…I have an obligation to report to their families. It's the least I can do" accountable.

The deluded remarks left Wesker grinning. It would be in his best interest if he kept Chris preoccupied with the losses, giving him plentiful time to submit his report. Any variance from what Umbrella had staged as the cause of the "Prison Incident" could be tiresome. The mass media had by now received the spurious reports which would be aired this morning, the petrifying and valiant tribulations of the sole survivors of S.T.A.R.S associates. They would be branded hero's having extracted Kennedy, without harm. Everyone else involved…martyrs, the prisoners the antiheroes and the grieving families…remunerated. Happily, there were no other loose ends to be tied, excepting the prisoners that had fled.

The Prison Incident will be overlooked, like so many before it, as the media moved on to something new, an explosion at a power station arranged for 3:00 p.m. At luxury, he picked up stride, needing a trip and having spotted the choppers. Chris paused as he saw his dark form forthcoming. Wesker couldn't help but eye the self-righteous chump with credible dislike. They had quite the love and hate liaison.

Chris gripped, "good to see you're OK".

Wesker repaid his handgun, "thanks to this".

The younger man took but Wesker didn't let go, tilting into him, "you did well. I didn't expect any less…from you".

Chris was taken aback by the sincere praise in his voice but was in no mood to celebrate. Wesker eyed Leon, hair shining white. He scrubbed his eyes, his vision was proving to be misty. They watched the choppers landing. The dirt swirling as three soldiers ran out. They were from the military patrols blockading and monitoring the highways. The young soldier identified himself, flashing his military card.

"How many survivors" he yelled over the whirring sound.

"Six" Jill shout, "I mean...four" holding back strands of hair which were fluttering around her face. Shadowing the pillar of smoke, hopeful, that the brothers had made it out alive, she had counted them as two of the survivors.

The soldiers escorted the four into one helicopter. Seating up they took to the air. They viewed the full scene from above. The rising ashes and unnerving collapse of the prison left them quiet. Leon didn't bother looking down, stroking Ivory to comfort the devil arm which was despairing for his twin and master. Leon was missing the red devil but would wait as long as it took to see the trio. Chris was observing critically knowing whom the firearm belonged to, smirking, as Jill duplicated the investigation of the unusual pistol. This frightful night was over…aware…the two people he cared for were unharmed. The good men that had vanished for this cause wouldn't go unnoticed. He would make sure of it. Leon caught Wesker gazing at his mane. On the rare occasions they had met, he hadn't been able to warm up to his friend's peculiar boss. Evoking the other blonde he had shipped to hell. Robertson shortly came to mind.

Wesker specified "you're hair, appears to be…greying", glacial eyes noticing their incongruity.

Leon tugged his tresses, "mph…experimenting", wondering how this man could see his hair in the dark. They hadn't bothered turning on the overhead lights.

Jill turned to Leon and clasped his locks, attracted, her mouth opening to state but she couldn't. It was exactly the same as Vergil's, these snow strands held ghostly beauty. Jill patted the varying blondes between her fingers and could instantly feel the transmutation. Leon shared the twin's hair but how?

The approachable blonde tried to change the sensitive subject, "what happened to your arm? It's burned" specifying to the red and black patches that only his altered eyes could see.

Chris examined Wesker's forearm, "where…looks OK to me" staring at Leon doubtingly.

Wesker humph as Leon's eyes breached his, "you're mistaken", silky tone, masking his lie. He was rather good at being secretive but it hadn't worked on this occasion.

Leon wasn't swayed. Sweeping Ivory's barrel over the marking, comforting his skin and the dirge pistol, "my bad, just the light…I guess" eyes betraying his words as he nonstop evaluated Wesker much to his disliking.

Chris wiped his upper lip and reviewed his friend. Why hadn't he noticed that Leon actually bore a resemblance to the brothers and those inexplicable silvery patches had spread...bothered? Chris hated to admit it but Jill was right, those men were…eye-catching. Leon gazed at him and smirked as if he had just heard his thoughts making Chris stir uncomfortably in his seat. Where the hell had that weird thought popped into his head? Leon had some serious explaining to do and he would make sure he got all the details, even if it meant a full-on interrogation. The said blonde bit his nail in comeback making Chris shake his head implausibly. This shithead might actually be reading his thoughts. Chris wouldn't put it past him. It had been one strange night, anything was possible…rubbing his face vigorously, hoping tomorrow would bring normalcy back.

Jill sneakily elevated her foot on his knee, entitled. Wesker and Leon gaped at him as he held his forehead and laughed quietly. Jill joined in, mission accomplished. Her foot was cured but she hadn't forgotten about her foot massage or how to cheer up the sulking hunk. Leon couldn't control himself and chuckled, appreciating they were all high on Nero's combustions. Wesker was the only one who didn't join in, watching them with contempt as if they had all lost their minds.

Nero raised his reclining head from the car window as two hawks patrolled the high-risk area. They were riding a stolen cop car and had taken the liberty of procuring police uniforms on their way out. Vergil had guessed the roads would be obstructed. The soldiers had allowed them through, without a hitch, since Dante had done all the chatting. The old man was charismatic to say the least. Nero couldn't believe this was his new reality, hand sliding over the metal grid in the back of the police ride.

"Hey old man, stop the car", it was almost dawn.

Dante yawned, eyeing the rear-view mirror, "what, you need to pee" talking low.

He didn't want to provoke his grumpy brother from his nap who had been giving him the cold shoulder all thanks to that pain in the ass insect unveiling his off-limits secret, should have squished the ugly bug when they had the chance, unreformed. In the face of opposition Dante couldn't stop checking out his twin who looked even sexier in the police getup. The totalitarian garb matched Vergil's personality perfectly and it felt like they were role-playing, mind fashioning all the likelihoods of what he could do while his hot twin was robed this way made him slobber shamelessly. Gratefully, Vergil had fallen asleep on the passenger seat so would never know about his travelling eyes or divergent mind. The happy flames hadn't quite left his body, leaving Dante very optimistic. Vergil would pardon him and they would go back to how things were, cuddles, caresses…tongue kisses, remaining merry.

Nero closed his eyes. There was no doubt about it. He could hear a loud blast in the remoteness. There was an ocean nearby, the uproar he could hear was that of surging waves crashing against rigid pillars. The teen could even smell the salty sands. Kyrie had always wanted to see the ocean, they couldn't afford the outing. The endless city they lived in had no place of wild haven. Nero was overcome by the sudden pull to relish his moment of freedom. To capture it forever in his mind and heart. To watch his first sunrise with two people that had saved his soul. The young devil had found his new identity in their brilliant company.

"Pull over old man" he pressed.

Dante itch his stubble, "kid, we just blew up a jail, are technically fugitives and riding a stolen police car. Now is not the time to start partying".

Nero had forgotten Dante could read his feelings, settling back in the seat compliantly, surprised when he pulled off the main road, onto a side one. They were enclosed by fields of sugarcane which were gusting with the gale. Nero had never imagined places like this still existed. The landscape kept changing as the police car sped down the endless road. A few horses were grazing on the pastures and a farm could be seen in the distance but otherwise the place was unpopulated. The lane was getting rougher as they continued to drive in a straight line until there was no road left just tough terrain. They hurdled over a large rock and Vergil bumped his head on the window, eyes opened, he sat up curtly.

"What are you doing...idiot" lacking cordiality, eyes looking ahead.

Nero didn't like the sudden drop in mood, quiet.

"Sightseeing Verge" the easy-going driver vibrated.

The car slowing down to a stop as the road ended and they came upon a precipice.

Vergil turned to Nero, "I forbid it".

The youth frowned and stared at Dante who daringly gripped Vergil's chin and tilted his face so their eyes could bump, "hate to break it to you Verge but the kid has made up his mind" rebellious. Vergil smacked Dante's hand making him chuckle, "that's right, now you have two out of control children to deal with", letting himself out and flying on top.

Nero leaned into the bars and gripped the steel, "I won't take long...I just want to see...what it looks like".

Vergil didn't reply opening the car door and slamming it shut. Dante was lolling on the roof, waving. Vergil snubbed, leaning on the bonnet. Nero got out of the backseat, walking towards the edge, he gazed down. The dusky waters below were whirling and clashing against the rocks, whittling them. The dawn approaching in the flawless skies. Crouching, he picked up a patch of dirt in his hands, devil arm blushing and extracting the loving gleams of the sun. Unbuttoning his shirt and letting it fly away. Wings are emerging, their full span and magnificence leaving the brothers silently captivated. The elder pondered the youths altered figure with momentous acumens…they had saved him.

The rejuvenated teen could feel the fresh air gliding into his bursting lungs. Happiness was flooding over him as he stood before the gates of a new horizon…his world was flooded with light, he thought he had lost long ago. Imagining his mother's smiling face as he became inundated to these undemanding afterglows. Kyrie's smile as he had kissed her lips. Nero slipped off his boots and pants and stared at his liberator. Dante slid down the window and elbowed Vergil friskily, slipping both arms about his waist and snuggling, he was so used to Vergil's body he kept forgetting to keep his distance, as pledged.

"Y' knows Verge, the kid might be even harder to hand…" maliciously shoved away.

Nero simpered, "think I want to try these out old man" courageously motivated to test his freshly achieved wings.

Dante's eyes narrowed like a hawk on a flapping pigeon. The kid would be his newest target considering Blondie wasn't here to play with, rubbing his hands in enthusiasm. Vergil knew what his brother had premeditated but he was trying to avoid interacting with the dense monkey, keeping his coldness. The hybrid would have to learn the hard way which twin was truly corrupt. This would be his first objective lesson. The blue devil watched as Dante studied the edge which was a good 90 ft. drop into the emerald waters, evil smile affianced.

Waggling his head, "you're ready to take your first flight, kid" immoral.

Nero flapped his wings, not so sure, "I don't need to learn" asking for guidance ironically from a conniving devil.

Dante slapped his back, "all devils are natural born flyers kid".

Insincere, "haven't you seen the nature documentaries where the fledgling bird leaves the nest and flies away?"

Nero couldn't imagine the old man watching documentaries, rousing doubt. Dante pressed him towards the verge and he noticed the dizzying elevations, searching how the offspring found the balls to wing. It could be...this was the only way. You just take the plunge. How hard could it be? Dante was bullying him by breathing down his neck. The valiant and equally naive adolescence strained his annexes, spanking the red devils grinning face who stepped away. The kid's wings had nearly stabbed his eye out and he didn't want to miss out on making a boob out of him. Nero stared at Vergil for assistance that was leaning into the car regulating Mato which wouldn't stop radiating at his touches. The katana was idyllic, reassuring Ebony who was dispirited for having to part with his twin, weeping. Rebel droned, lodged between the foot spaces, fervent to return home and join his other brothers who had been left behind for this specific assignment.

Dante doubled his arms, "whenever you're ready kid" petulantly.

Nero peered at the sea a little afraid…he couldn't swim…rotating. He allowed his bare body to soak up the heat. The sun was over the horizon and he was about to set himself free, to forgive himself, his mistakes, all the hurt and sorrow, for the sake of a second chance to start over. Nero had ultimately turned to face his brothers for security and strength, arms extended to clasp the wind between his fingertips, mane gusting. The adolescence was ready and stepped over the edge, letting go, to find he was tumbling hazardously, flapping his wings hysterically, the ungainly and ill-timed actions quickening a swift drop.

"Daaaanttttttteeee!" was the viable culprit.

The said devil's hilarity was the last thing he heard as he smashed into the cold and thankfully superficial waters, sinking crudely like a small fly caught inside a bowl. The aquatic had hit him like a tonne of bricks, losing breathe. The tide had mercifully withdrawn…otherwise he would have sunk to his death...not funny in the least. The unlucky teen resurfaced. Dante was holding his stomach, eyes watering, shouting between fits of laughter, voice reverberating through the wilderness. This abode was all theirs for the sole purpose of play and fun.

"Kid...you gotta…learn to fly" smearing his tears.

Dante stopped chuckling having recollected who had taught him…Vergil. The kid was in safe hands his brother was a great guide. Nero would learn everything in no time. Dante was stripping when a spectre sword fluttered past his auricle. Vergil was noticeably uninspired by his mischiefs, carving his locks, making his heart ache, pushing away the fear-provoking feelings that were beginning to suffocate his mind.

"I'll go get him" he assured kindly to which the other let down his vigilant sentry.

Dante saw his opening and furtively teleported, hugging Vergil tightly before he could avert his swoop, "which reminds me, you owe me a lifetime supply of pizzas and sundaes, starting from today, so don't be mean. Oh and I will be collecting your credit card", thumping his brother's back as hard as he could in a prescribed fraternal way. Nuzzling done, Dante strutted towards the edge of the cliff and viewed down, "hey kid, watch and learn from your elders" boastful.

Nero rose, flashing him the middle finger. Dante sidestepped a few well aimed fireballs from the kid's violent limb, raising his arms theatrically into the air, doing a rather stylish twisting dive, to be struck in the butt by a phantom sword for his toils, sending him, vulgarly, careering into the deceptive waters.

"Veerrrrgggggiiillllll!?" Dante's fading scream.

The said devil couldn't help a corresponding malicious smile clinging to his lips as Dante smacked the waters rudely and was rocked by the ferocious waves that had seemed misleadingly deeper from overhead. It was the teens turn to laugh at his failings; it was the first time Dante had heard the kid's mirth which made him unexpectedly snort. They gazed at the cliff. They could see the police car but Vergil wasn't in attendance.

Nero's cheeks blushed "you think he will join us?"

Dante snickered, "I don't think we gave him a choice".

Vergil's nude figure delivered a perfect dive towards the deepest end.

Dante whistled at the top of his voice and clapped his hands as he reappeared, "definitely a 10 Verge".

Vergil swam in perfect strokes towards their shallower ends, chiselled arms slicing though the waters. Nero and Dante couldn't stop smiling as he joined their side where they were currently standing.

The governing devil enquired "how long do you two intend to be out here?"

Dante stared at Nero agreeably, "well kid it's your call".

Nero swiped his face, "I want to see the sunset" tasting the saltwater.

Vergil wanted to be considerate of the young devils feelings, "we leave as soon as that. Have I made myself clear?"

Nero nodded respectfully.

Dante's stomach howled impolitely, "that's my cue to find some decent grub" he exempted himself, wanting to give the kid and his brother some privacy.

The smiling red devil strode through the waters for the nearest shores, a small secluded beach with no one in sight, just a few tall trees, and large boulders withstanding these controlling surfs. No one in their right mind would be able to reach this setting without killing themselves, making it safe. Dante didn't turn around, his heart wasn't big enough. Being around Vergil was causing deep-rooted scars to re-emerge and he didn't want Nero to feel any pain because of him. The kid deserved to be happy in view of what he had been put through. Dante didn't want to be the one to ruin it. Playacting like he always did, but this time no one was watching, the phoney smile waning.

He wanted to let Vergil go but he couldn't bring himself to do it. These emotions were a part of his being, how could he ever go on living…losing a piece of him? He didn't know how else to exist. If all the oceans and rivers were to fuse as one, they wouldn't be able to hold the depths of pain, sorrow and seclusion he was holding in his heart. A small child was standing in front of a locked door, clutching a teddy bear, knowing he would never be allowed inside. Where could this forlorn child go? Dante stared towards the universe, praying to God so that he may part these clouds and send him straight to hell for loving his brother. It would be a better end, than being tied down to these unbearable feelings of hollowness.

"You're cruel" he retold God and made his way unaided.

Nero was trying not to stare at Vergil. He was out of those horrifying blocks and bounded by beauty yet the man before him made everything else dwindle in his presence. Vergil was riveting. The nervous youth decided to head towards the shore, wings soaked, he sat down on the warmish sands. It was a cool morning but by mid-day it would be hot. Nero shook his wings as they combined into his skin. He lay down when something pinched his shoulder, turning over to find he was lounging on fragmented seashells, shaped like spirals, prettily coloured by the ocean in purple, orange, white and brown. Nero took one to revise…he had never had the luxury of seeing God's polishes. Two dark translucent eyes appeared from inside and were gawking at him bleakly, the teen peered, trying to shake the tiny crab which was clinging to his home to get a better look at him.

Vergil came and sat down beside him, taking the occupied shell from his prying hands, "this one is taken. These creatures have an eye for choosing the best ones to make their home" teaching.

The elder's articulate eyes were fixed on the crab which fearlessly sustained eye contact. His subtle fingers were trailing the spiral shell. Nero noted how gentle he was. Sitting alone with Vergil was making him unnerved, blushing madly signalling his hearts torment, words lost. Nero blubbered to keep things casual.

"I want to take a few back, as souvenirs" he started to poke the soft sand to distract his eyes. Funny thing was he had made Vergil the axle of his world. Where else could his eyes persevere?

Vergil positioned the shell on the floor which started to skulk away. The crab was making a quick retreat, camouflaging him between other shells to stay out of harm.

Nero sat up and placed his arms about his knees, "you said you would teach me about my powers".

Vergil's eyes were assessing, "I expect by now you should know I am a stringent teacher, so do not expect me to be permissive. I hate leniency and sniffling".

Nero smiled, "I will learn, I want to learn...everything from you" keen.

Vergil wiped the sand clinging to his perfect abs, "your feelings for me…are love?"

Nero reddened, heart fast-tracking, not wanting this problem to come up so early but there was no hiding it from either brothers. He might as well have been wearing those cheesy shirts with a heart and an arrow pointing firmly at Vergil. He would have to learn a few things from the old man, mostly, how to skin his most excruciating emotions. There was an awkward silence. Vergil was waiting for an answer and Nero was beginning to perspire under his intense stare, licking his dry lips, never having expected to be put on the spot like this. Vergil wasn't being cruel but trying to appreciate his moods the only way he knew how, by asking. The reason was simple Dante had been misleading him about what he truly felt, the cause of his present bitterness. Vergil was deceived by the one person he thought he knew. The individual who wished to get "in his pants" had always been his little brother.

Nero was trying to find the right words, staring at the waves, the endless ocean with limitless depths, "I don't...want things to be weird between us…Dante also…" uncomfortable.

Vergil paraphrased, "I asked whether you were in love with me, answer the question?"

The awkward teen knew he had no choice but to be open and frank, sighing, "I can't help my feelings for you. It doesn't matter to me whether you return them or not" softly ushered, "I'm in love with you".

He gazed hopelessly having aired his inmost feelings for the cryptic person he held them for, mood quiet. Vergil was silent. Nero dug the sand anxiously to discover a spectacular gold coloured seashell. It was as if someone had known he would be here, at this very spot, to locate this hidden treasure. Fate and destiny were words he hadn't believed in so why did he get the feeling there was a driving force that was constantly watching over him, eyeing the shell that was seamlessly intact and unbroken. Nero cleaned the sand, the hole was empty and he could keep it.

The adolescence broke his silence, "being by your side is enough for me".

"Please...just let me stay...by your side" whispered.

It was his one and only plea, closing his fist around the shell, claiming a keepsake of this exquisite moment, resting his head on his arms, breathing in Vergil's spoor. It was making him lethargic. What was this mounting feeling? Having someone in his life who he could love, respect and protect was a sacred sign of good things to come. After Kyrie he had no one, forever alone…for so long and now…and now he was blessed with three very unique individuals, overcome. Vergil would remain the one closest to his heart. The soundless elder was overhearing all his shared thoughts, graceful fingers sliding through his mane considerably, making him grip the shell sturdier. Vergil's touches were so very restful. Nero's eyes shut as he heard the blue devils voice.

"Love has always left me…opposed".

"How one can choose to agonize over another so incompatible…is merely lunacy".

The adolescence wasn't injured by the putdown. Vergil's views were simply different. It didn't matter to him, he liked the elder just the way he was and wouldn't change him for the world, making these small traces of affection inestimable. Vergil had accepted him and his feelings, nothing else mattered.

Vergil's fingertips stroked his cheeks mildly, "as such, it would be better for you to be direct with me. I don't intend to hurt your emotional state or be ill-informed of your sentiments, even though it is an intrinsic part of who I am" exposing his feebleness.

Nero boosted his head. It felt like they were actually debating Dante. He could tell the brothers were in disagreement. The old man had been acting weird too and adding to Vergil's bad mood. They were like an old married couple that fallen out and he was stuck between the two as their newly adopted child. They would figure something out. Vergil was oddly strained and the younger couldn't help but ask.

"You're worried about Dante" softly voiced.

Vergil elevated his head, unambiguously concerned. He had always discussed the matters of the heart with Dante but he was the cause of his current quandaries and ever-increasing anxiety. Nero was the ideal person to seek alternative guidance, being well versed on human passions.

"I wish to seek your opinion" he intoned graciously making Nero's eyes amplify in glee, really flattered, that Vergil was opening up to him.

The frustrated words ensued rapidly, "his love for me is foolishness. I assumed my blood may have been the cause but he has been this way since…infancy. Even as a toddler he followed me all over…clinging like a snotty child. In my eyes he hasn't changed" uneasy.

Vergil was worried for Dante, as an older brother, but something else was disturbing him even more, fuelling this ridge. Vergil was missing Dante's touch, leaving him disordered. How he was hypothetically supposed to deal with his brother when he himself was unresolved?

Nero agreed the old man was actually the prime kid of the group. Dante had saved his life, shared his fears and loved the man sitting beside him. It was hard not to care for someone so sincere and devoted, recalling the circle they had made, the feel of Dante's and Leon's shoulders as he held onto them.

Submerging his feet in the white sands, "you can't help who you fall in love with. That's the beauty of it. We're all free to love whoever we choose, regardless of who that person may be".

Vergil noted Nero's body had grown fuller and muscular, more so than Dante's, making him intrusive on whom his father was. Had Sparda known this man...could be? The hybrids powers and looks were sole, resembling angels more so than demons. Vergil would have to find out about the devil or demon that could have fathered such a distinctive child.

Nero scrubbed the sand clinging to his devil arm, "you know the old man better than anyone else and what's best for him" blurted without thought. Now that he was chatting he couldn't stop running his mouth. "Just follow…your heart...it'll never let you…"

Vergil slanted into his body and kissed his forehead lovingly. "Thank you" the decree. Nero's words had pleased him. The blue devil's voice was more soothing than the waves as he whispered directly above his brow "they say, the soul has no gender, greed or obligations and thus love is not persuaded to follow the boundaries set by man."

"The soul is free to journey" rhythmical.

Breathes ringing, "having no eyes, ears or tongue to be tarnished by this realm, just the craving, to be arcane within the spirit of another, where it can find everlasting cessation, armistice…an eternal home".

"I know this is what he seeks in me, as do you?"

The focused youth met Vergil's eyes, hushed, he couldn't have put their feelings more beautifully. For someone who said they could never understand love, Vergil had effortlessly delivered their pooled depths.

"That's why the old man can't be without you and…and neither can I" bare and exposed.

Vergil's soul was their undying home.

The elders lips resealed in thought, remembering his father. Nero drew his fingertips without his permission. He had never imagined he would share such a cherished moment with the distant devil, clawed hand resting about Vergil's wrist delicately.

"You're cold", signalling his blue flames, their bodies inspired as one.

Vergil locked his eyes to their secret caress. Nero relaxed a hand on his cheek coyly, wondering, if he should tell him about the true qualities of his fires. In its place, his body pressed into Vergil's ribs. The craving young devil pecked the lips of the man that had become his entirety, trying to seek in him what was only his to discover, what Kyrie had already touched, tongue thrusting its way inside…in panting pursuit.

Vergil yanked, "what are you doing" displeased.

Nero balked and stumbled, "I was...I…thought, it would be OK to, to, kiss you", shrinking at his stupidity, he had overstepped the bounds, having gotten carried away.

Vergil belittled, "you're taking advantage of my kindness and have already stolen a kiss, without my accord. I know humans place meaning to these intimate details".

Nero's eyes widened in blow, wishing he could bury himself inside the sand, having recollected kissing Vergil when he was snoozing and appallingly masturbating in his bed. Vergil's eyes constricted. Nero wished he could crawl in a small hole and drown…nothing could be more horrible than someone reading your disgraceful train of thoughts. They stared at each other and were both startled when they heard loud gunshots in the aloofness. Vergil erected and so did Nero. They didn't know what to make of it. This beach was out-of-the-way and they had been vigilant.

"Dante" Vergil's heart contested when something large thumped the ground beside him.

Dante de-triggered, "breakfast is served" presenting a stolen picnic pack in one hand.

Finding a dry patch he laid out the filched goods. Nero thanked his lucky stars the old man had saved him any further humiliation, quickly making his way over and examining their meal. There was toast, boiled eggs, fruit, a carton of juice and even a homemade blueberry pie…still warm.

Nero licked his lips and seized a toast rapidly, "let me guess, you raided that house" snuffling at the thought of a stark-naked man performing breakfast burglary.

Vergil came and sat down next to Dante who was about to repose him into his upper body when he remembered their truce. Vergil had failed to recall and was astonished when his identical abruptly left his side to relocate next to the hungry teen. Nero detected the energy fluctuating all around him, unable to trace whose emotions he was picking up, one of confusion and hurt. The oblivious red devil munched, handing bread to his brother who looked strangely discontented.

"I got caught taking the pie" he admitted with a substantial mouthful.

Salivating at the sight of dessert had mistakably delayed his flight. The prison food had made him forget the joys of decent grub and boobs. Remembering baldy and wondering whether he had survived. It would have been a real shame if their annoying Buddhist friend had expired.

Vergil elected the fruit, "brother, you were seen by the humans?"

Dante started to choke, having forgotten Vergil's heartiness for annihilating witnesses, clogging on his grilled bread. Nero smacked his back harder than needed.

"Verge I forbid you from killing the two pensioners in that home."

Vergil stared at the cliff still determining the outcome. The sight of his devil would likely give the old people in question a heart attack making the cause of death natural, unresolved over his killing objectives.

Dante propped into Nero's healthy chest, "so kid, you ready to take on some real demons?"

Nero was eyeing his pie, "I'm ready old man" unable to contain his glee, sputtering.

Vergil scowled, "you will merely be observing the two of us until your training is complete, merely observing" he reiterated moodily.

Nero scratched his nose but didn't retaliate, self-conscious. Training with Vergil would be fun…stroking his lips, having remembered their earlier kiss, unintentionally staring at the muscled thighs before him, deferentially.

Dante perceived the teens travelling eyes, "knock it off kid, am sitting right here. You really got to learn to control your raging teenage hormones" incapable to contain his stingy feelings behind the dishonest smirk. Clearly frustrated having to keep away from the warmth he had craved since childhood...possibly jealous?

Nero was furious, "get out of my head Dante" more insecure than anything else…humiliated, heatedly confronting the hunter's pie.

Dante's eyes amplified, "that's to share kid, I nearly got shot in the ass for that", resentment exploding, first Vergil and now his dessert course was under threat from the same individual.

Nero dug his clawed hand inside the plastic tin, about to slam it on the old man’s head but it smelled too good to waste, chomping.

"It's not like…" munch, nom...nom, "your ass wouldn't have healed" coating his cheeks purple and brooding his way down the beach.

Dante dipped his finger hastily in the fallen dish which held some blueberry compote. It was pudding and he had missed out, the final blow to his worsening mood.

"It still hurts to get shot in the ass, I'm not freaking immune to pain y' know" moping, savouring the delicious leftovers, eyes lighting up, it was good pie too.

Dante griped "that one really needs some firm discipline Verge".

Vergil ridiculed "coming from you it's rather ludicrous, the biggest imbecile and idiot there is" sustaining to be more than usually abusive.

The hunter whinged, "what did I do now? Am on my best behaviour for you" pissed. They were all on edge and this trip was turning out to be a real drag when a shell caught his eye.

Vergil noted he had picked the same unfortunate crab for persecution, quarrelling "this one is taken. I suggest you put it down and choose another".

Dante closed one eye as two jelly eyes inveterate his brother's point, "too bad I want it".

He shook the shell and the crab stumbled out but clung to his home heroically with one claw making the red devil livid. "Little punk" the feisty little crab resembled the kid, the imp that had snuck into the backseat of his ride and chosen the same designated driver…eyes narrowing. "Sly fox" Dante mumbled using Akira's well informed words, the old croc had been right about something, shaking harder to relocate the crab.

Vergil seized his opposing wrist, "put him down Dante, hurting one smaller than you is dishonourable, have I not taught you this" fiercely charged.

Dante continued to shake disobediently, "he can find a new shell" failing to heed Vergil's warning, a fatal mistake, having forgotten past excruciating tuition's, screaming in torture for his slip.

Nero dropped the tartlet in jolt, "just my luck" he groaned as the sea claimed his comfort-food, noticing.

Vergil had Dante's earlobe in a fatal death-grip.

The teen snort deviously and added to the hunter's torture by using his devil bringer to ruin his prized mop, "serves you right old man" the gibe.

The receiving devils enraged eyes beamed bloodshot, "your dead kid, no one touches the hair", the final straw. Vergil was the only one permitted to ever cross this territory.

Nero sprinted on his athletic legs, "gotta catch me first".

Maddening the old man with mere words wasn't quite enough, the excited teen shaped a huge fist in the air which hemmed in a foothill of sand he had managed to bundle in a blink of an eye, the fistful materialised directly above Dante's head. Nero quickly transgressed to dropping the load, burying the hunter alive. He clutched his stomach and laughed loudly at his clowning. The sand blasted as Dante devil-triggered making Nero gulp at the chilling sight, black and red wings rising and falling, imposing gushes. Red flames readied inside his outstretched claws, harmonising images of the angel of death impeccably. Crimson eyes fixed on his stunned target.

"Better run kid" the snarl, fangs luminous.

"Holy shit" the sober reply.

Nero made a run for his life, sand caving in as if it was WW3.

Vergil watched the chase with a look of triviality, "it seems I will need to discipline them both".

Erecting in one elegant passage and clicking his finger, eliciting his terrifying devil from its confines. By the time the hunt was finished Dante and Nero lay assaulted and trampled. Vergil had no choice but to take firm action against his failed brother and the latest adding to their family. He stood over the two, foreboding.

"I expect you two idiots to behave until sunset" his tenor unsympathetic, eyes equally antagonistic.

Dante boosted his mending body and cracked his shoulder in place "we will behave" he shook amiably.

Azure eyes thinning treacherously over Nero, "you owe me pie" he notified gravely.

Nero summoned his special flames, "whatever old man" peeved.

Dante squeezed him abruptly having seen the druggy flames he liked so much, "all forgiven" the fib.

Nero tried to drive him off, "piss off old man use your healing blood".

Dante stuck to him, "feels like I'm in a steam, sauna and Jacuzzi all at the same time, plus am feeling down, share the love".

Nero grits his teeth and cranked up the heat to his crimson flames.

Dante hissed "hot…hot…too hot" sweeping his smoking chest.

"That was cheap" half-heartedly muttered.

Nero caught a hint of hurt in his eyes. The old man looked lost. He cupped the hunters face and revitalised their temples understandingly. Dante was hurting, Nero could feel it. The two distinct souls submerged inside his blessed flames. The teen was becoming a part of his very flesh as they spilled their riddles. The quietened hunter padlocked his eyes to Nero's pensive speech as it drifted into his very being, filling his aching core with faith.

"It'll be alright. You should have told him how you really felt".

"Vergil wants to hear it from you, not someone else" instinctual.

Dante crossed his arms about Nero's trunk, scared stiff, depleted crown latent over the kid’s chest.

"I...left it too late...I've brought this on him, I always do, he deserves better than a fucked up brother like me", the blazes abridging his quiet misgivings. He didn't want to let the kid go. He knew he would be left resonating about things he feared the most…things he couldn't escape.

Nero contained Dante who noticed how strong he had become, it wasn't just his body, even his hair was somehow lengthier, the fledgling likewise coached.

"No, its not...it's never too late, he is waiting for you to be honest, so quit being a cry baby and talk to him old man. You owe him that much".

Dante undid his eyes, "you're growing up fast?"

Nero osculated his warm forehead, "am trying to catch up…to the two of you" open.

Vergil was upended on a large rock having seen the tide coming in. This secluded beach was going to vanish. Dante stood and held out his hand. Nero took it and they both climbed the rocks to join him, settling on each side. They viewed the ocean in harmony. It held a rare trait…the eyes once cast, couldn't breakaway. Hours passed and the sun created its sinuous decline. Nero leaned closer, so his skin could touch Vergil's, it seemed dreamlike, as if he was asleep but he was really here, incarnate, sentient and fully awake to share with the person he loved. Life had never been so tranquil. He had never believed in happy endings but maybe, just maybe, they did happen. The adolescence glimpsed Dante and noticed the bright eyes that had always immersed others were now subdued and solitary. This serene moment didn't feel far-reaching and neither complete…quietly troubled.

Dante and Nero were both holding onto to the same plank, to frantically stay above this all-consuming ocean of love. Which one of them was strong enough to release their hold and go under for the sake of the other? After all, this piece of timber and these sweeping waves were bound to drown someone?


	25. The Resolution

The exceptional devils made their way collected in the refuge of nightfall. This stage, Vergil was driving, Nero was napping in the backseat and Dante was seated in the front. They were heading into the nearest town, too fatigued to stroll. The preoccupied hunter couldn't stop thinking about the one snoozing, Nero's flames had opened his eyes and he was observing the world with unselfish transparencies.

"Hey, Verge, now that we got the kid, let's set up shop for a while" blowing on the window. "It'll be good for him if he has some predictability. We can't keep moving around like we usually do, it'll stress him out" expressed evenly.

The guarded red devil had miscarried to reminisce that Nero was an unadorned mirror image of them. Kid was an orphan, had no one else, all this time...suffering. They had to make him feel at home. The hunter scoured his brow...Nero's lips were still etched over his stinging skin, feeling guilty about their earlier tussle. He had acted selfishly and was lamenting his childlike actions. The kid needed the two of them, more than ever. Dante understood Nero's emotions better than anyone else. Putting aside his own fucked up mental state and pointless self-worth to address the obvious...Vergil was never his to begin with and his conduct of Nero had been uncalled-for. What the fuck was he doing being such an asshole? He had no right to be feeling envious or tight-fisted. The truth was…Nero needed Vergil the most. He had to be the one to let him go. There was no other way...there never had been…and there never could be.

Vergil slowed down and parked along the kerb, "I agree…he still needs to learn about his powers to capitalize them. He seems to be managing well since he accepted his devil and sentiments", cogent.

Vergil was gaging Nero with sensitivity. The way he used to Dante. Why did this facial expression make the others heart sting? His conscience answered vividly, things will never be the same, for you, cannot touch, what was never yours to begin with. Vergil's eyes would never watch over Dante this way. The soundless ride back they hadn't spoken a single word. He was afraid to look into his brother's eyes which narrated the bygone's he craved to forget, the days he pursued Vergil ubiquitously for him to turn around with a look of repugnance and hatred. Dante had fallen in Vergil's eye's…all over again. The stern blue devil was an uncompromising teacher and one who didn't absolve easily, Mato could corroborate. He stepped out of the car with Rebellion and Ebony in hand, relaxing the purring pistol to his cheek, desperately missing Leon.

Blondie hadn't batted an eye when he had come clean about his true feelings for Vergil, Leon's words and company had pacified his unsettled and immoral emotions. The voice inside his head reminded him that Leon was unseeing and intoxicated by his demonic elixir...blind. Even he would be repulsed when the affects faded...disgusted. Dante knew he would have to stay away from the blonde...he couldn't turn to him in his hour of need. The saddest part was...he had absolutely no one else left to turn to. The daunting thought left him utterly confounded. Vergil opened the door to the backseat captivating Yamato in one hand and dragging Nero's body out with the other slouching him over his shoulder. Dante had forgotten to tune Vergil out who was overhearing his every thought, opinion level as if he was addressing a stranger.

"I urge you to wait a little longer. If the marking remains, I have no objection" even his annoyance had paled.

Dante doubled his arms, "never thought the day would come when we would add two new members to our group" shamming his mood.

Trying to smile but he was tired of putting on a charade. Nero was right, he had to be honest. Yet he continued to stare at the floor unable to meet his brother's discriminations. How was he supposed to tell him he was feeling nothing but fault, disgrace and hate for himself? Dante wanted to vanish from his identical gaze. The resolution alleviated his broken heart. Now was the time to do what he had always wanted, to run away, to cut this umbilical cord, part ways...for good. It was the only road left to take, knowing, Vergil wouldn't be without help. He had transformed and matured into an accomplished soul, leaving Dante trailing behind, he would never be able to catch up or equal his brother's pace but someone else could. Nero was Vergil's perfect match, heart and soul, courageous in his eyes to walk in stride with his twin and match his every step. Dante couldn't picture Vergil with anyone else but the kid.

Vergil started to walk up the shabby looking building that was going to be their new headquarters, "alliance with an officer...in the force, could prove to be advantageous. For a mortal he is rather...bright", supplementing.

Vergil liked Leon and knew the hybrid and Dante thought highly of him. Nevertheless, he wanted the mortal to accept the marking of his own accord before it became semi-permanent. Giving him the necessary time and space to evaluate if he really needed three perilous devil's in his otherwise ordinary life. Sliding out a brick from the edge of the steps, Vergil extracted the rusty key. He unlocked the double doors and headed inside. This was one of the numerous properties they owned throughout the city. An old black piano was pushed against the wall. It had been left behind by the previous occupants along with a red Persian rug that was embellishing the otherwise bare wooden flooring. A broken jukebox was situated in one corner collecting dust alongside a timeworn desk, leather chair and an old-fashioned telephone. This place would need urgent housework for a longer stay as they were now planning. This dilapidated property would be their new home for quite some time.

Vergil ascended the creaky staircase in the direction of the extra bed. A large window overlooking the road was slightly agape. He locked and drew the black curtain to draw no attention inside. A double bed and side table were the only furniture in the room. The elder laid the hybrid in bed, he stirred but didn't wake. Nero who had never slept a single night was now home, spirit aware, that they were close by. Vergil noticed his fist was tightly clinched, unsealing his palm gradually to find the seashell he had so lovingly unearthed. The hybrid hadn't left it behind. Vergil prudently sited the item on the table. It was valuable to the young devil so he moved the shell with great upkeep.

A peculiar consciousness overwhelming, he had another in his life he was answerable to. The hybrid had put his faith in him to be the person to nurture his unsteady soul. A task he wished to undertake the way Dante had. Vergil wanted to see Nero grow and flourish under their joint care, caressing the dipping tresses from the youth's kindly face, devil arm shone softly to his every touch, fingers lowering towards the puffy lips to greet his restful breathes. Vergil covered the sleeping youth's frame and shut the door, heading down the petite corridor into the privacy of his bedroom. Briefly faltering outside the bath but deciding not to take a shower. The scent of the ocean was one he wanted to retain. It had been a long time since they had been to the shores.

A king size bed was deftly made with embroidered cotton. A large mahogany cupboard was the only other item in the otherwise vacant chamber. Vergil was exhausted, the two miscreants had left him physically drained and this night was about to get exceptionally byzantine for what he had scheduled, opening the cupboard to locate Matos gold and black lacquered sheath. The exalted rapier deserved the merited rest. Vergil lifted his edge, taking in its palpitating sparkle. Mato quivered...the firmest eyes and a thunderous heart belonged only to his master, one worthy of all acclaim and punishment. Vergil kissed Matos hilt the way Dante had.

"Rest" he ordained and sheathed his blade, deliberately slow.

"Dante", Mato hummed having sensed the Youngers pain.

Mato knew the red devil loved his master and wanted to ensure that the spirited child was also contented by his princely owner.

Vergil smiled, "you are in love with him. I have always questioned if it was his blood you truly craved…or solely him".

Mato conveyed in demonic dialect before succumbing to his master's aspiration. The katana fell silently into deep sleep, trusting Vergil would act. The owner hung his prized blade onto the wall and climbed into his lenient crib, secreting his naked figure as the door clicked open. The oncoming footsteps were passive, discreet and cautious in their progresses, so very unlike their usual stance. Dante mounted Rebellion beneath Mato.

"Rebel, time to doze" he stroked the skulls fondly.

Rebellion enunciated his name and requested about the others. Dante patted the tip slicing his fingers, gratifying the steel with his blood, "am going to pick them up, meet them tomorrow" the dishonest guarantee.

Rebellion swallowed the majestic blood and prayed for his master's long life and vigour, following Mato into deep kip. Dante's sunken gazes arose to touch Mato's ribbon, he didn't get a chance to thank the rapier for saving his life and it was time to say goodbye, gripping the handle, forcing his tears back.

"...sorry for being a pain in the ass Mato...please take care of him" the painful murmur.

Dante kissed the scabbard between trembling lips. Mato was his favourite weapon not because it belonged to Vergil but it had been the one to save Eva's soul, setting her cursed body free. Ebony was crying, one with his pain, suffering the same anguish of parting. The firearm didn't want to sleep for his master was planning on leaving them all behind. Ebony yelled, raising its voice to clash for the very first time but it couldn't pull away from his hands or his loving say, "sleep", the demand and the firearm was heartlessly muted. Feeling anger as it heeded his will...devoted...only to him.

"Dante" was the final cry of hurt.

The said owner kissed his weapon, "I'm sorry".

Heading rapidly for the shared closet, Dante hurriedly dressed in Vergil's black jeans and navy cardigan covering him in the fragrance of his brother's skin that was his life, pulling the jumper over his hurt face, taking a lung full to find the hidden strength to take the final step, yanking on his black combat boots.

Vergil questioned "where are you going?" Eyes open, noticing.

Dante knew it was time to trick his brother, one final time. Drying his tears, the cocky smile re-emerged along with his usual care-free approaches, turning around to drop on the bed, altering his laces, "someone's gotta go and pick up the weapons...and food, kids got a healthy appetite", avoiding the assessing eyes as if they could see him for the coward he was.

Vergil ushered "we need to enquire as to what he deems suitable for consumption".

Dante laughed, "I wouldn't worry Verge he doesn't seem like a fussy eater. Kid is definitely low maintenance".

Vergil sat up, "destroy the police car when you're finished. The bike is concealed behind the third location Beowulf is hidden" tactical.

Dante hoisted "am not that…idiotic bro, I remember" he guaranteed with a sexy wink, applying his twin's perfect description of him.

This detachment, this distance, this mounting tear was intensifying with each itinerant step. What he had promised but could never keep without killing himself. Dante needed to get as far away as he could, before he was crushed completely. The thought of being treated like before was hastening his footsteps. There was no return to normality from what he had cherished only between Vergil's lips, acuity he could never overlook. Dante couldn't live without his twin and Nero would come to hate him for it. This irrepressible love that no other could ever equal would destroy their bond, heart excruciating, as he found the nerve to take in Vergil's face, one last time. They were twins so how was he supposed to escape this man who followed him from end to end? Dante would have to elude his reflection, until the very end of time.

Vergil was staring at Rebellion, "you're not taking any weapons?"

Dante flew over the bed holding up Ebony, "I can handle myself" he grinned.

Vergil eyes became lenient. Dante turned away…these eyes troubled him, evoking his mother's laughter as she had held up her stilettos. He had a place to go, to run and hide from the world, inside her warm arms, the lake. With her face in mind Dante would take the fall the way the kid had. Holding the shards of his torn heart he revolved, seizing his chest and elevating his other hand to his lips, blowing a kiss towards the man sat royally in bed. All the love he had masked fostered and buried in his heart he had showered upon his brother in a trivial hint, Vergil's injured face gazed into his...educing Eva... hurt by the tender motion.

Dante was saying 'see you' to the one he treasured the most. The person he had so much to say to but could never find the right words for had never desired them. The hunter was about to unravel the enclosure he had assembled. Nero had been the key. He closed the doors to his brother's room...forever, fingers dragged away from the handle, making his way towards the spare room. Entering quietly and seating on the occupied bed, checking the seashell located in sight. The kids first count to decorating their new home, made him smirk approvingly. Dante added his gun to his collection he would never consent leaving Ebony with any other, his ultimate gift to the kid and his first physical weapon. Dante brushed Nero's tresses caringly and noted his devil arm was shining. He entwined his human fingers within his devilish talons.

"Am leaving him in your care kid, I know, you will never let me down".

Dante kissed Nero's forehead reimbursing the earlier caress, "I hope you will be alright too. You're a part of the Sparda family now…my old man..." shedding voiceless tears, "welcome home". It was too painful to remember his father when his heart was severely draining.

The torn hunter fled. It was almost 9 p.m., the air frosty as he got into the police car, the keys still planted in the ignition. Dante pulled off the pavement towards the only dwelling he had left to go. The world was inconsequential for he had no home, no sanctuary, no purpose, driving…aimless. Parking up in a sheltered pasture he devil-triggered, hovering mid-air and directing a blaze of fire to set the vehicle in flames, the explosion broadcasting as the signals malfunctioned and rung loudly to bleat.

Dante winged the rest of the way it had been a while since he had engaged the skies, draining his power to its limits, sky-high over the woodland which held his mother's spirit. Her remnants were dispersed here, landing ineptly on a tree to prevent a fall as he lost his trigger, wheezing, gasping and despairing. He sat down on the old branch, resting his fatigued body on the trunk. It was quiet here, warm breathes visible in small vapours. Dante stared obliquely and could see the lake with his intensified senses, the wilds concealing him from the world. There was no one else here to watch him fall apart, tired of playing games, breaking a stem.

"Hey mom, I'm sorry I haven't...come by" closing his pain filled eyes.

"I missed you, I love you...I wanted to be with you…so I came" smiling.

There was no response, just a bolstering breeze inspiring the swaying leaves. Dante crumbled and flung the twig in order to scrape the bark, feeling numb and empty he strained his hands at bodily pain. The swelling in his throat and chest was winding and twisting like a snake, smothering his breathes. Nails tearing off, skin bled and stinging, bits of flesh cut and splintered. It started to rain and he stopped to view the merciful droplets as they derived from the firmaments. God was attending to his implorations and was conveying assured comfort, the vigorous sound, the earthy scent filling his naked and exposed soul to its exaltations. God was retelling him that although He may be forbidding He also offers respites to those that call upon His relief. Dante was flooded, spray learning his crust, tumbling amid his lips…sensing he had been here afore…had lived this moment.

The red devil flew down, hair and face wringing as he scampered though the forest until their borders diminished, sitting sedentary near the edge of the bank having reached the creek, Vergil's garments in ruins, losing their lingering cologne, the concluding forfeiture. Dante leered and yelled. Everything he had been holding back was set free inside this aggrieved scream, face partial in agony. Tears washed away by the volley…there was no one here to repair them. This was his new reality and he was frightened to accept it. How could he have permitted his heart to love Vergil and lead him astray? To find he had no way back. Where now…where the fuck now?

Vergil's benevolent fingers drew his damp tresses and rumpled temple. Dante knew he was picturing his brother's caring hands coming to his relief, influential arms were ringing his trembling figure, elating him towards the covering of a canopy. Form glided decisively amid drawn-out legs, his twin was tiring to undress his sopping jumper, head getting stuck and yanked a little crudely. Dante held Vergil's wrists as he tried to do away with his jeans.

"It's OK Verge you…don't have to do this" muffled inconsistently.

Re-saying the unchanged words, this time he got no reply as his boots and jeans were tugged away and assembled on a fallen portion of timber. Dante was alarmed as his hand was elevated to be stroked between tending lips.

"I lost your scent when it started to rain...I'm sorry I kept you waiting" the acquainted voice whispered into his being.

Vergil stole his dripping tears, other hand now wrapping his neck, caressing sympathetically. The clothed blue devil was equally drenched, dressed in his favoured garments, a red hoody and blue jeans. Dante shook as Vergil's yawning puffs blew over his jaw, heartfelt fingers floating. Dante unlocked his eyes. Vergil was really here. The vision made him lose all self-control.

"You shouldn't have…come for me" anxious.

Dante was a mess and didn't know what to do to put things right, handling devastating guilt for dragging Vergil out here.

"You're right to hate me…I'm sorry".

"I, I lied to you...I can't change my feelings, even if I tried, I can't be, I need to stay away...from you" the lonely decision.

The overcome hunter stared towards the lake as the torrent sprinkled through the shielding foliage, kissing the surface of the still waters.

"I know I'm wrong...I always am. Everything that I have been doing with you…you should hate me Verge. You have every right to...hate me", teeth chattering from sheer emotions his body couldn't enclose.

Vergil kissed his jawline, "where would I go if you decide to leave me?"

Alleviating the younger into his chest, "I stay mad at you for a few hours, expectant that you will confide in me and this is where we end up?"

Vergil reprimanded harshly by kissing his aromatic mane, "idiot" the slur.

He had dearly missed this heat and couldn't be without it, insightful, that this was the secret location Dante would choose to hide away. Vergil had tracked his actions the moment he had left their home. Sliding his cheeks over Dante's to ease him. All these sweetened motions were learned from the one who needed them the most.

"You were missing Eva...as do I" the moderate say.

Dante gaped, it was the first time he had willingly cited their mother's name. Vergil osculated his brow, "mother would sit in my room…she always said you loved the bedtime stories, it was the only way you would sleep, without me. Eva would recite the same ones to me, even though I never..."

Her older son prevented his tears from surfacing, trying to be sturdier of the two. It had wounded him to enter this sacred place. A devil like him had no right to be here.

Dante polished Vergil's lips with his thumb, "she...loved you the most...you have every right to be here".

Vergil pecked his torn nails, "how can you love me, despite what I took from us...I'm afraid of this love...I who fear nothing am fearful…of you" gasping. Only Dante could disrupt and enrage the serene oceans of his heart, leaving them wild.

They were both frightened of each other and what had endured tacit over the years. Vergil spread a tear from Dante's eyes and without warning kissed his cold lips, tongue skidding and slipping, inviting into hotness, alluring and exploratory in its quest. Dante twisted away goose bumps breaking into his frozen flesh. Vergil could scrape them amid his fixated nails. The most inspiring, challenging and complex person in his life was also the most unpretentious to know. The sophisticated blue devil had by now decided Dante's fate. Restoring his fingertips over his cool chest, he advanced to sucking the curve of his mouths, tongue outlining their throbbing perimeters making the one receiving his relentless luvs pulse inside his arms. Legs hinged from place to place interweaving and procuring, there was nowhere left to run from these preying eyes that resembled a lone wolf trapped and engulfed in cascading silver. Dante's heart had implemented pace, the sound louder than the thunder in the mists.

Vergil's soporific voice blew, "I was inconsiderate of your feelings...forgive me...I was purely doing what would have been considered fitting".

Exigent, "Nero impelled me to trail my heart".

The elder's heart thumped, "I love you" the clear admission.

Dante felt these beating pulses against his strained chest. He had waited a lifetime for these words to leave Vergil's lips. To hear them like this, in this purified place left him dazed…what had he done?

The confused elder awaited his return, he had never seen Dante so weak and impaired, questioning if he had any intentions of returning home. When he had said goodbye it had felt as if he was leaving for good and he would never let that arise.

Dante growled "I won't, fucking, let you…" he had never despised himself the way he did now, Nero's name had made him come back to his rationalities. He had to get the fuck away.

Vergil wrapped his neck jaggedly, exasperated, "your testing me...I understand what you want of me and I necessitate to be one with you".

Dante shredded the fingers clutching him, "I fucking refuse…you get me. I won't let you...", teeth jarring with each term, eyes swollen and puffy as tears swamped, eyes plunged in denial.

Vergil's eyes thinned, pungent, burning a hole in him, "what are you troubled by, this world, me or you", biting his collar brutally declaring his intentions between jarring tusks.

"It's too late for you to run away from me" savagely.

Vergil was going to be the one to mark Dante, fangs feeding, piercing the teeming veins of their addictive elixir, trouncing and swallowing his twin's blood, kindling his build with fire, perceptions effervescent rubicund. Dante snarled and tried to break-away from his overpowering clutch. Vergil applied brute strength, devastating him between his arms making him groan in crushing pain, leaving his colourless skin stained and bruised. Dante triggered bidding his devil, wings tousled between Vergil's as he lashed to get away, claws slicing his assailants chest, legs, face, whatever was in close proximity to these cutthroat claws. One side of Vergil's cheek was struck and bleeding.

The blue devil was disinclined to let him go. Dante's infuriated devil brought it's fangs down on his shoulders, neck, biceps in a frantic bid to escape. Vergil fought the devil which was twice his size to the base, wings trying to soar but he elevated his leg and pinned them resolutely. Who else but he could know all of Dante's faults and frailty? By the time the melee had declined he was immersed in gore, chest exerted by the power it took to restrain the gruff devil. Vergil was waiting patiently for Dante to lose his trigger.

The suppressed devil wailed in torture. The calls passage of pain sending earthquakes through his soul but his hardened heart wasn't moved and neither did his body budge. Applying more weight, the devil howled blood tears Vergil inclined and licked these from the rough scales, tongue slithering upwards to enjoy them. They were given by the devils assent and he didn't waste a single drop, absorbing the costly blood, initiating the ritual to claim Dante as his. Vergil was ready. 

Dante's trigger was failing, he was drained, sporadic amid his human flesh until he lay sprawled out before his brother, naked and exposed, expression muddied from the soft earth, hair interlaced with dirt and leaves, just like his trampled frame. Dante could feel warm rain dripping on his naked skin, his brother's lifeblood. He elevated his head to be rendered unresponsive, he had nearly killed Vergil in their fight, body quaking as he tried to get away, gruelling on his elbows and knees to crawl when he was stubbornly fixed by composed hands. These hands were making him wish he could die here and be buried beside his mother.

Dante yelled, "no Verge...you…I...I'll never fucking forgive you" growled.

Vergil stripped his hood which landed near his face, shedding his garments.

"I won't...let you" he roared, hands folding into tight fists. Vergil's heavy body was weighing down on his heart and conscience. It hurt…it hurt…the pain soaring as he heard the kid's voice inside his head, "have you…fucked him". Nero's honest intuitions had left him traumatised.

"I won't let you…dirty your hands...for me" he whispered in remorse and regret.

"I'm begging you Verge…don't do this" the final plea.

Dante's eyes widened in repercussion as Vergil's warm skin swathed his, coating their nude bodies with their kinship. Vergil was preventing his cuts from curing...merging their life-blood, spreading with his tongue and absorbing their tincture as one, eyes alert, arms containing the one who wished to flee his love. Vergil tilted Dante's aggrieved face, twisting his tongue between the soft familiar lips, urging his identical to meet him halfway. Dante denied clamping his mouth shut but Vergil wouldn't sojourn. This was cruelty, he knew he was hurting him but the consequence of this intimate act would end his brother's burdens. Vergil would give his all, forcing his way inside.

Dante's inaudible cries were alleviated by Vergil's tongue as he slurped on his lips wounding them the way he had been taught, taking more blood. Vergil hardened...Dante's body tensed as one hand skated down his mud-covered chest and clasped his limp member. The long fingers sending tremors into the muscle which had only ever waited for their touch, instantly breathing life with blood, arcing in line with the digits that were convincing in their spur. Such strength to bring the world to its knees was refined in their labour when it came to the one in question. Vergil accustomed their tangled bodies ever so slightly, arching over Dante's hips which he pushed inwards. Dante was bent on his hands and knees.

Vergil paused to stare at the unlit ethers. There was no return from this, he knew and had arbitrated the intermittent insinuations. He thrust ahead and penetrated his twins flesh, ripping into his very being. Dante creaked in agony as degradation filled him. His fallen body was at the mercy of Vergil's touch. Mind and heart at battle, making him shiver and spill. Vergil thrust again rocking him to the core. Stopping and receding to turn him around.

Their eyes met for the first time since this uncompleted clash had commenced, staring into each other's vulnerable passions. There was no differentiating between them, soiled bodies, messy manes adhering to their foreheads. Vergil's hips moved and plunged of their own accord as he made his way inside the warmth of another, strong yet controlled. Dante's arms gripped his shoulders in dejection as if he was about to fall and would take Vergil with him. It was exactly what he had done, clutching him until the very end. Thumping his face into his trunk, body shaking, mind processing what could never be understood by anyone else but the two. Vergil buried his hand inside Dante's locks to sooth his growing worries. He could read the fear in his eyes. Dante was overwhelmed by what was transpiring between their connected tissues.

Vergil whispered "don't be afraid...hold onto me".

Promising, "I will never let you or Nero fall. Faith in me brother...faith" ached.

Dante held onto Vergil's every word, steadfast. He had lost this fight when their bodies had joined, "you" the consenting tremor.

Vergil stole Dante's leg over his shoulder and plunged harder and deeper. Dante's body drawing him into heat he had never known or felt. This was Vergil's first intimate moment and it didn't come as a surprise that he was sharing it with the one who perfectly harmonized him in looks, body and soul. They were both on fire and there was nothing the rain could do to quench their thirst. Vergil locked their lips, this time Dante countered, tongues inharmonious, saliva wet, as they slurped, licked and tasted with hunger, absolution was gaining.

Dante's hands gliding through his locks. Vergil yanked him into his arms and they were snarled, faces flushed over their exploits. Vergil had never seen this side of his brother, applying quicker strokes, each time his hands fell on Dante's most intimate bodily flesh he receded. There was unending struggle taking place inside his brother's morality and Vergil knew the cause all too well. Dante's hand clutched his to remove their hold over his member but Vergil pinned them behind his spine, overwhelmed by the red devil's build which was pressing, squeezing, constricting his throbbing muscle. Vergil was misplacing control. Dante was about to break in two.

"Let go Verge" he pleaded.

Dread, nervousness and unease swinging him to the basic. He was supposed to be deteriorating but the contrary was taking place, fluctuating, set free. Fused desire he had only imagined but never felt was circling and devouring him.

Vergil didn't heed his words sucking his neck where he had made the fatal bite. Tongue snaking into his ear, "...you have nothing to fear...give them all to me".

Dante's hands were covered in mud. Each place he held Vergil was tainted, soiled and dirtied by his grimy hands. Eyes flared in trepidation. He knew his sibling was doing what he had always done. Blemish his body, hands and soul just so he could guard and protect him. Vergil was self-sacrificing and would once again take the culpability for corrupting the revered bond of brotherhood for Dante's sake, shielding him. He wished he wasn't born. Vergil was hearing his distress, pushing deeper, satisfying, engaging loving kisses, raining him with affection he had held back for years. Tongue discovering his nipples, scraping them smoothly between his teeth and tugging. Dante tried to push away but it was no use, he couldn't break free. He never had the strength, moaning as his ribs and stomach were besieged, loving hands still seizing his painful member...pleasuring.

"Vergil" he burned, inside and out.

The man he had named elevated his stately crown to recess, mouth smeared, cheek torn, eyes heated. Dante locked his eyes to his stunning face, reaching his bounds as their muscles pushed their bodies towards jubilation, shifting and gliding. The friction was too much to take. What he had sought in others but could never discover, love teeming in every sweat, quiver and silent tremor, head whirling in a high he had never known and would never feel again, voice tethering between prayers, hums and expiration...losing respires.

"I...I love...you Verge" pleading guilty.

Hips thrusting rapidly, coming inside his brother's clean hands, layering them with his dirtiness, body shaking in pain and pleasure, peaking. Eyes open and cast on the obscure sky as thunder voiced. Hips still driving all that persisted inside. What had they…something warm was spilling into his body? Vergil had climaxed. Head tilting back stunningly as he pushed a few more times, gasping frantically as he came. The blue devils face was blushing and Dante couldn't look away, their frames' still interwoven, smeared in sweat and odour.

"I dirtied them" the liable fault.

"I fucked up…I" covering his face.

Vergil yanked both of his wrists and raised him into a sitting position. They were both concealed in sludge. Their usually clean figures were now one with the soil and verdures. Vergil gazed at the warm seed that had ejaculated from his twin's toils, studying the life-giving matter captivatedly.

"How can this be unclean...is it not a part of you?"

"You really are childish" spoken in a matter of fact way.

Dante was left muddled, mysteriously feeling small, "what" unable to keep up.

Vergil on the other hand had moved onto reviewing his collars where he had imposed a precision bite mark which was going to be burning and itching Dante's skin fittingly. Vergil licked the claimed flesh repetitively to decrease the chances of a flare-up, the charismatic marking begun its surmounting over Dante's flesh with fervent upkeep. This tattoo was a set of wings with a blue and gold katana entrenched in the middle, a just warning to all demons and humans that eyeballing this handsome devil would equal torture and death from the prestigious proprietor. Mato would be the deliverer of this message as such it was merely suitable to duplicate the knife-edge presently imprinted on Dante's obvious lapel.

The ignorant red devil rubbed his neck mystified, eyes flying open, "you...you marked me Verge..." stunned, snapping him out of his self-loathing stupor. Dante had been absentminded the entire time.

Vergil had thought-out methodically, pinching his twins flaring nostril's making him sneeze at full volume, "which other devil would be irrational enough to make you his own?"

Dante halted a smirk from founding when he remembered Nero, "the kid will…please just kill me Verge" feeling like the biggest cheat, fraud and trickster in all God's creatures.

Vergil entwined their hands, "it was the only way I could accommodate the two of you...I will be marking him too. If this is what he elects? The pledge between the two of you will fortify since we share the same blood" confident of his inferences.

Vergil had thought this through while they were indolent beside him watching the ocean. Love was disorder of the chaotic kind and he had formulated a way to enclose this tempest inside his palm. It was the only way to keep the two of them fulfilled. Jealousy, obsession and hate conjointly bordered love and these dangerous traits would engulf and extinguish their tie in the long-term. Vergil had known his tenacious twin would have been the most problematic to coax into this decision so had been ensnared first. Vergil had accomplished the undertaking with few hindrances. The second segment belonged with the hybrid that was next on his marking list which would end here. Under the demonic empire the rules were simple, one marking per demon. Dante was his twin, an omission to most rules; the marking was evidence of this. Their love was an anomaly which could never be regulated, structured or confined within any grouping. The twins were not tied down by rulebooks, neither human nor demon, their love was rogue, boundless…limitless.

Dante burrowed inside his chest, "Verge...is this your way of telling me you're going to get down and dirty with the kid and I should let you", squeezing hard enough to make his sexy twin groan, "am not sure how I feel about that" feeling like his jealous self despite everything they had just reflected on.

Vergil vaulted a brow, "his power is exceptional. The blue flames are an extension of his body which is why he didn't want you to hold him when he was healing. He has also tried to kiss me twice to enter my body with those flames...to be one with me".

Dante's eyes augmented at how clever and observant Vergil was, "so the kid doesn't need to materially touch you huh, that's pretty neat, wish I had power like that?" The thought of feeling other's up without their knowing made Dante even more envious of the kid's powers.

Vergil caressed his lips, "in order to complete the marking he needs to ejaculate...like you".

Dante scowled, "no he doesn't, considering Blondie didn't when I..." halting.

Face inflamed when he recalled the fact that he had deferred the orgasm a little late, jerking Leon off openhandedly. Acting like a dick had ensured he captured Blondie…for life. It made him chuckle, happy with his dirty work.

Vergil fondled his hair comforted by his laughter, "although unsophisticated, it is imperative for the one you are marking to give their blood and heart for it to be deemed permanent. I heard what you said to him before you left...you consider him worthy of me".

"I also consider him worthy of you" lavish in his bearings.

Dante was perplexed as Vergil divulged. "I'm not just doing this for him...once he is marked his allegiance to you will be absolute, for we are clones and portion the same kinship. Neither of you will hold any feelings of distrust but mutual liking".

Dante eyeballed, "I don't want to do anything behind the kids back. I imagine you're going to be the one to tell him what exactly he is signing up for".

Vergil summoned his curing blood, "I would never lie to him the decision is exclusively his to take".

Dante sighed "is that what's happened to Leon?"

Vergil was trying to eliminate the leaves clinging to Dante's head making him whinny, considering what the two looked like right now.

"Not quite. The devils marking of one another are eternal. One with a human can weaken with time...I doubt he will let that happen and you have already seen the effects of how strong his bond is. He is altruistic when it comes to the three of us...we're all equals in his eyes".

The elated hunter nuzzled his better half that fell back in the mud. Vergil always held the solutions no matter what the impasse may be, making him Dante's superhero, "you're ingenious bro, but I nearly died out here from heartache, why didn't you fill me in before?" He scratched his back something was crawling on him making him fidget unpleasantly, conceivably a creepy-crawly.

Vergil frowned, "do you know how stubborn you can be? Before we could talk you decided to leave the house, without my consensus".

Dante bit his nipple making him grunt "your fault, looking at me like...like that" imitating Vergil's passing glare, "giving me the evil eye", chewing on his other nipple leaving them raw, "by the way your scheduling to come leaping in here was a little too impeccable. I get the feeling I was a little manipulated" assuming his spoilt aura.

Vergil loved these lively roguish eyes indulgently regarding him, "you should know by now how my mind works" boosting Dante over his face and nipping his nipples as penalty making the other hiss.

The happy red devil licked Vergil's bloodied cheek to even the score, "this is why they want you back in hell...you really are terrifying. Moreover, I presume, I can't mess around with others apart from Blondie" unfairly asking if his boob fondling days were well and truly over...not that he cared.

Vergil leered "my devil will become enraged if you decide to bed another. Leon is your only exception and his privileges are different from yours".

Dante's eyes expanded in scepticism, "you really are manipulative Verge. All that time I thought you were enjoying the ocean but I why am I not surprised to find you scheming" in love with his artful wiles.

Vergil tilted to gaze upon the revealing lake, still.

Dante quietened and lay down on his chest, "you haven't been here, after that day...I always wanted to return with you".

Vergil fondled Dante's cheek, "I haven't told you a story since we went to jail".

Dante's eyes exploded, "yeah you owe me full weeks' worth".

Vergil had taken over the obligation of laying him to nap, it had become their monotonous routine, Vergil's voice and body would make him drift into sleep unperturbedly.

Dante kissed Vergil's lips hastily, "the story" he repeated squirming to get into a comfortable position, climbing over his brother's body to get even cosier.

Vergil arose, "in a forgotten Kingdom far, far, away lived a solitary prince" lifting Dante's chin to make sure he was pleased. Yamato's request would never go unanswered.

Dante bit Vergil's earlobe, "it's you isn't it" his cheerful self.

Vergil yanked his mop "no" he avowed, contented.

Dante sniggered, "too late, I already pictured you in a blue coat and black pants prancing around a castle, looking like your sexy self".

Vergil kissed Dante's lips to quieten him, "he was cursed; his touch would cause others to turn into dust. So he lived alone and ruled all from afar. As he was noble the plight of the villagers would be brought to him for judgement, behind a veil".

Dante was sucking on his neck leaving a nice hickey, "trials of knowledge, like our uncle Solomon used to embark upon".

Vergil propped his head wondering if Sparda had told Dante about their famous uncle, trailing his spine making him shudder, "people would come from all over the kingdom, believing his wisdom to be a gift, giving him the name of the wise prophet."

Dante boosted his head to stare at the man he loved. Hands moving to his lips as he spoke, outlining them. Vergil kissed his fingers. "The Prince didn't believe in fairy tales. Existence was arduous, the real world was harsh. So he spent most days in private inspecting the infertile courtyard, nothing grew here as he had touched the soil when he was a child, killing all the foliage".

Dante breathed, "carry on" he closed his eyes.

The elder completed, "one morning, like so many before them, he was regarding the barren gardens to find something growing. Blinded by his own vindictiveness he had never noticed that a small rose bush had nurtured a single rose. The Prince was bewildered, "could it be"' he asked?"

Dante beamed dreamily, "the curse was lifted".

Vergil kissed his muzzle, "long ago, yet he could never find the forte to touch the precious rose, fearing it may decay under his fingertips. So he watched from afar for the rest of his days".

Dante bit his fingers, "guy was unwise, should have plucked the rose earlier and oh I think a small sprout attached itself to that single rose" upended he towed on Vergil's arm. "Time for a swim, seeing as this is our honeymoon and it's only fair you take me out on a date after pounding my ass".

Vergil condemned, "your use of language is rather...uncouth".

Dante scooped him up bridal style and started to make his way into the lake, "you love me" the joyful reply

Vergil threatened, "if it isn't you're desire to die today I suggest you put me down".

The high-spirited hunter was in-between the lake, "in principle, you can't kill me since I'm your spouse in crime" placing Vergil gently inside the liquids so he was seated. Vergil tried to tread deeper but Dante stopped him, "no, let me Verge".

Dante took his time cleaning his twin's soiled skin which could have been easily washed away by this lake. He wanted to be the one to do it…hands that had been starved for only a few hours were deeply dedicated to Vergil's care. Finished, he immersed himself in the waters as Vergil waited patiently for him to rise, afresh. Dante seemed in front of him, leg's straddling his physique submerging him inside the cool cove, arms coiled tightly about his stomach, kissing his lips without fear, reservations and secrets. Mouths slowing, breathes hitching, this kiss was altered, both cognisant of what was now predestined. They were lovers. Bodies heating the water as the moonlight floodlit their white pelts and glowing forms. They were reborn. Vergil was coordinating the pacing of their joined lips, tongues circling, hands tunnelling, drowning in each other. Dante gasped and broke free unable to hold his breathe, dragging Vergil up and out, having remembered something fundamental.

Wheezing, "Verge did the…kid sleep through the night in the cell?"

Vergil's lips thinned, "he would always call a name after a nightm..."

The twins understood their dangerous blunder, Nero wouldn't be able to sleep through the night and they had left him alone, in an unacquainted place, without warning. The kid was doing well since Vergil had remained by his side. What would happen when he found him absent?

Dante panicked, "go to him Verge I'll get the weapons. They're going wake and the last thing I want is a giant dog, bat-shit vamp, flash gauntlets and headless twins out on the streets".

Cerberus, Nevan, Beowulf, Agni and Rudra were without a doubt not wanted on the boulevards when the three of them were trying to keep a low profile.

Vergil devil triggered and ascended in-flight, his heart beating rapidly as he received Nero's gut wrenching cry, "Vergil".

The young devil was by now suffering a new nightmare. He had been cast aside and deserted, when he was no longer needed. Nero had strained their unique bond and this was the twins resolve, to leave him behind. He had never meant to hurt Dante or contend with him but he knew he was the source of his sadness. A neglected child that had never been blessed to listen to a single fairy tale was being flooded by the terrors, fears and doubts that had been his only companion since the day he was born. The real world was cruel, he knew. The shadows he thought he had escaped were here to confirm the reality he had naively forgotten. Happiness was a transient dream which would vanish when he enthused to grasp it inside these cursed hands. The only certainty that he was never fated to persevere in the warmth of the ones he loved, always destined to lose them, to die alone. "Vergil" he cried out to his guardian angel and only met hush. This night Nero would ensure this vicious cycle never repeated, seizing his devil arm to break free.


	26. My Guardian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Latin - Sparda's last words to Vergil: "Transit umbra, lux permanent" - Shadow passes, Light remains (source anonymous)

Vergil's trigger was growing feeble. Flying over the gloomy metropolis, shoulders and wings excruciating as he landed on a ridge, hair and skin were scintillating. He could see their apartment but his body supplicating crucial interval. Nero's calls had ended. Vergil knew he was in misfortune, legs pacing as he picked up swiftness, hurdling the narrow rooftops, the backdrop, lights, flora and fauna a haze as he capered like a ghost in flurry, arriving on the roofs of their apartment, clambering the wall and elbowing the glass window, smashing it. Climbing inside, landing on the crushed remnants. Feet stabbed and bloody, elbow gouged, curtains dithering behind him with the gale. Vergil stole the bed sheets, the youth was absent but his blood and locks inundated the blood-splattered crib. The spectacle of gore made him twinge with awareness piecing the unsettling dilemma as he crouched to find a grisly trail of Nero's devil arm...comprehending what had sadly befallen.

The hybrid had torn his mane before hacking his demonic limb. When that hadn't worked he had left the room, steps irresolute, heart bleeding as he shredded his chest with his talons. This was the cause of the larger spray of crimson. Vergil charted his self-destructive paths which lead straight to the bathroom. Nero had wavered, whirling his head towards his chambers. Vergil could see the blood trails where he had held the doorknob but never entered his room...aware he was gone, too frightened to face the truth, that he had been abandoned for Dante's sake.

The young devil had struck his head on the door repetitively with torturous insights. Perceptive, their connection was everlasting; the spectre swords that had pierced his flesh were a souvenir that he was no equal and never could be. In the end...the cerulean devil would always elect his brother, his flesh and blood. The teen had pleaded to his guardian to allow him to remain by his side, forever instinctual, having beheld the depths of their adoration and longing for one another. Nero had never expected anything more or anything less. Left empty handed, alone in misery, pained tears drying to a swift close...leaving hope.

Vergil unlocked the bathroom door to find a passage that horrified even him. Nero was submersed in the overflowing bathtub, strands of curls visible, as he lay dying in a lake of red plasma. A razor unwanted on the flooring. Vergil vied to his side and pulled his lifeless corpse out of the tub. The adolescence had made several fatal incisions. Rancorous slashes had been exacted on the veins that drove life into his unasked for being. Nero didn't want to take any likelihoods of continued existence. Demonic blood was potent and he had learned from past botches. Choosing to go under, knowing, his body wouldn't be able to reject his final ultimatum. The dejected youth had lost his fight the way Dante had...choosing to immerse in the depths of despair to reach his concluding salvation. The wondering angel didn't wait for God's ardent touch, having made Vergil his all.

His guardian laid his comatose figure ever so gently to the floor, face colourless, heartbeats progressively reducing. Vergil's hands motivating his pulsates to move, eyes fuming but he controlled his rage, having made a crucial mistake. Nero was volatile, just like Dante; neither could be confined no matter how hard he tried. They were a whirlwind that had no explicit route and their path of obliteration was their own bodies and souls. Vergil exhaled life, lips covered in the teen's gore. Arresting eyes observing the tattered limb where he could see the bone, the appealing light was absent. Vergil milled his fangs and repeated leaving the teen's chest emblazoned in thwarting and wants. The blue devil slashed his wrists to bleed his tonic into the depleted devil arm when he detected something falling out of Nero's fingertips. It was the seashell. The hybrid had been holding onto until the very end. The elder knew it embodied his happiest moment and Nero could never let it slip away from his gasps. Vergil felt his chest being crushed...he had let the adolescence down.

"I'm here Nero, I'm sorry...for keeping you…" he was holding Dante again, the day he had broken his brother's heart when he had first declared his love. The unresponsive head limped inside his hands. Vergil tried again, "you have always reminded me of him but I know you are your own person".

Vergil contained the cataleptic youth into his warm chest, smearing his unsoiled skin in kinship. Body frost, skin wrinkly, hair tousled and dripping, neck still exuding blood...Nero's poor state was leaving the elder in ruins. Vergil touched the cool cheeks that had lost their habitual pink, making the vanishing teen appear even younger. Every time he neared this youth they would rouge. Secretive eyes that monitored his every move would turn away when he regarded them. These timid eyes could never hold his nerve-racking favour. The cautious and broken child that had elected to follow his every interchange, clasped his hands tightly in desperation now lay dying inside his arms...war within each breathe. Nero was clinging to life by a brittle string, chest straining and faltering as if he had held on long enough for Vergil's return...to say goodbye.

The cessation Nero had sought from the day he was born was concealed within the kindred spirit that was holding him firmly. How could his body decline what he had desired the most, to pass on with someone by his side? Who else could it be but Vergil? The blue devil sustained to drain his elixir, reheating Nero's flesh amid his, in hope, he would return, small kisses were situated about his drenched lips, long fingers amending his locks. Nero had always needed his touches the way Dante had. One listless soul embodied within two bodies…it was the only way he could image them. The reason they were drawn to him. Vergil buried his strong-minded expression inside Nero's plaits, the scent swooning...so similar to his own.

"You wish to hear a...story…" his voice quailed into the sleeping child's ear who gave him no answer.

He was about to narrate the last tale he had heard from Sparda about the legends of demons and Warlords that had once reined this world and prophecies of what would come to pass. It was this particular story that had struck a twine within. At the time he hadn't known why.

Sparda was seated in his classic study and shut the manuscript he was construing. His son engaged the adjacent chair listening fixedly, "a redeemer Vergil, who, notwithstanding his demonic legacy will re-establish the humans and devils alike, cleansing and uniting both realms".

Vergil quietly elevated Nero's human wrist where four diagonal cuts had been viciously perpetrated.

"I had never believed in the Saviour", drinking and downing within the draining lines, accepting the teen's lifeblood, rims rubicund and dripping.

"In my father", originating the demonic ritual to bind them as one. He outlined the beautiful youth's lips amid his flaming breathes.

"In you", challenging there blows...barring his eyes, wrong on all past accounts.

Vergil extracted the book of old from his father's hands. He had always looked down on Sparda for espousing a pathetic mortal and leaving behind a legacy of carnage. Ever the pessimistic, he had pronounced with an aberrant smile, avoiding his father's articulate gaze that was directed his way.

"Ludicrous, how can he subsist in a realm so vile and diseased, designed only for deterioration. The Saviour you speak so fondly of will not survive when he finds out what he intends to heal is not worth redeeming..." he derided enthusiastically. "Both realms are beyond saving..." humanity and demons equally were destined for eternal hell, he was certain.

Sparda by no means reproached, the dint in his cheeks developed as he smiled endearingly, viewing their human world from the hole in the wall, "is that what you truly believe?"

Vergil unlocked his perceptions to answer candidly, years older and wiser, "I was much too proud father for I have always looked down on this realm" amending his hardened stance.

"I now know there is splendour far and wide. It was my observations that reeked of poison, not the spheres. A lone flower still flourishes in isolation, even if no other will ever gaze upon its exquisiteness…for it is conjoint in creation, as we all are".

A solitary tear fled his eye and fell above Nero's lips. If only...if only...he could have this dialogue again with Sparda and this could have been his final answer, yet neither could he re-write the passage of time nor his aforementioned self? The legendary Knight whose name hadn't left his mouth in years was no longer hearing his latest insights. How he missed his father's royal company. The devil that had broken all rules for the sake of the one he loved was truly inspiring. Vergil had learned by heart their last disagreements with neurotic beliefs, the feel of his father's hand over his shoulder as he had stood to leave the room in which they disputed about an outcome that had always rested on his resilient shoulders. How could he have believed that he would be the one to save this sanctified child from the world he had come to salvage? The Latin words arose as Sparda countered his older son's argument categorically.

"Transit ambra, lux permanet" the knight's gentle Latin inferences.

The cerulean devil lacerated his lips, blood spilling down his jaw. Vergil kissed Nero, his final entreaty to the untaught devil to return from the pitch-black oblivion, into the light where he had always belonged. He had never understood why Sparda has said what he did but this twinkling was no accident. Sparda had foretold what has been the route of what makes this world so utterly glorious. Darkness will always pass and only light will persist and endure. In the end...dusk can never conquer the dawn. His father's final parting words stemmed and congealed.

"It is you who will be his light" concluding their multifarious discussion with affluence.

Vergil had adhered to these words but had never believed in them...until this very real moment, taking his time reconnoitring Nero's inert mouth to become conversant with these edgy lips, draining himself, his consummate elixir making its way inside the teen's inactive flesh, kissing and caressing...rousing and inspiring life, warm hands inflaming, roving and heating towards loving temperateness. This story couldn't end this way, fate and faith rousing flesh, tender arms forcefully pressing. Nero coughed abruptly. Vergil held him steadfast as he hurled up water, gasping, confused and in utter shock. The youth was badly unsettled and stared around the bathroom with languid eyes, form stinging and trembling as he tried to cope with the terror of what he had perpetrated on his helpless body, mind in hysteria. Vergil gripped his face and their eyes faced. Nero's sight was regulating, just like his rattled breathes, mouth open in wonder.

"Vergil" he scraped.

The said devil bit back his anger and yanked the youth's head in anxiety, wanting to squash some intellect, "try this again and I will be the one to end you" imperious.

Nero's lips shivered, eyes brimming, chin unsteady, "I, I'm sorry", hands moving to his face weakly.

"You're...really here...I" he spluttered, "y-you came back...s-save me".

The elder controlled his overbearing displeasure over his suicidal engagements, exhaling "idiots".

Nero's arms limped to his sides frail and worn-out, head dropped over the elders collars who were keeping a close guard over his draining injuries as he barely hung to consciousness, icy body anxious and tense next to his. The lonely teen wasn't used to being this close to the foundation of his love and lure. Vergil was taking the obligatory safety measures to govern the youth for what was heartlessly about to happen.

"I have marked Dante..." he declared moderately.

Nero's breathing caught. Hands folding slowly into fists as he obscured his face into Vergil's chest the way Dante had, slipping his hand through the squelchy blood to acquire the shell inside his trembling palm. The teen had already sensed what was about to arise...rejection. Vergil boosted Nero's reducing hips so he was sat straddling his physique, detaining and securing. He was about to break the hybrids heart whose hands clasped his shoulders unwillingly, nails and shell piercing his flesh. Nero was getting ready to have his heart viciously torn. Shaking hands supported by Vergil's irrepressible assumes but the words that followed gashed deeper than the razor...dividing his core.

"I have taken Dante as my companion. I love him and he concludes me...my brother, family, friend and…lover. He cannot be without me...or me without him. We are inseparable and still portion one umbilical cord" frankly conveyed without indecision.

Nero's scorching tears tarnished his trunk mouth parting in a heavy breathe as he was overcome and shattered by each stinging say. Vergil's hands roved his spine and paused softly behind his neck, consoling him, pushing the teen's lowered head and attending to his tears with both thumbs. Nero wouldn't look at him, wholly heartbroken.

"You're angry?"

He studied the damaged devil arm for an indication to find it was insipid. The cascading lights had come to a close. The youth was noiseless, chest stressed in misery. Vergil rubbed his cheeks sympathetically, "speak" troubled.

Nero pulled away, "I...don't want your fucking s-sympathy..." the dejected murmur, wiping his runny nose with the back of his wobbly hand.

Vergil's fingers slipped down his neck, replicating his collarbones, "you have come to hate me and my actions?"

Their eyes come across; Vergil could see the depths of despair. Love was true agony that only a few were courageous enough to burden their hearts with. Nero's anguish and sorrow was glaring back at him.

"My actions have hurt you?" He queried raising his chin to read the hurt written all over his face.

Nero's tears fell from his damp eyes in bane, "why...why did you...save me". Lifting a hand to shelter his face, "should have let me fucking...die" tears dripping down his chin.

"Just let me...fucking die" excruciatingly growled.

Vergil gathered a singular drop onto his palm, raising the precious mineral to his lips to discern another's tear. Nero watched in blow, no one but his mother had cared for these useless tears. Her beautiful eyes made the feeling of loss and hurt even worse. Where could he go…there was no place he could belong? Vergil's crust and mane were shining golden. Nero's blood was infecting his luminous skin and it wasn't his imagination. The man he loved belonged to Dante now and he had no right to be clinging to him. The conflicted teen flinched as his eyes were kissed by warm lips that imprinted their fallen trails, shuddering from the unexpected intimacy that was ongoing, quickly releasing his hold over the elder's shoulders to get away before he could crumble completely. Vergil held him firmly, both arms fortifying his strained midriff.

The blue devil whispered, "I would like to mark you, I have attained Dante's consensus" unpretentious.

Nero looked lost, "mark me"?

Vergil abridged, "a demonic marking is perpetual. Once I mark you...you cannot choose another mate. Ultimately, it is equal to...eternity. I suggest you think it over since you have one more you care for" tactfully observant and equally circumspect.

Nero's eyes cast downwards, reducing, "she, Kyrie...is...g-gone" staring at the blood that was circling their close limbs.

Vergil's expression becomes softer, "you need time, it's not a decision you should take casually or in this...fatigued state" pragmatic.

The blue devils wrist was still spilling over, Nero saw, holding it to stop the flow of blood. "D-Dante...wants you to..." doubting, brows and eyes puckered in thought.

The youth's tired mind was processing in distracted torrents, body shivering. He couldn't hide the uncertainty in his voice. How could Dante be agreeable to share Vergil of all people...knowing he was in love? It didn't make sense, could someone really be so...so kind. Nero searched his mind for the time Dante had ruffled his hair after witnessing his devil-side. The old man had a big heart, how could he doubt his kind heartedness when he had done so much for him.

Nero licked his lips anxiously, "why would Dante still want...me to...be marked...by you", rubbing his cheeks which were getting some of their blushing tints back. Could it be he was still dreaming? Yet Vergil's touch was all too real.

The judicious devil sited his head to rest on his chest, detecting his overwhelming misinterpretation. "You have always discounted his kindness, for you see nothing beyond me, not even my twin" prudent.

"Love in its basic form is sightless and superficial. Dante has imparted me that the accurate face of love is absolute and encompassing, Godly in opus".

Vergil could feel Nero's body warming from his heat and words, "there are many things I cannot teach you Nero...only Dante can, for he has been my guide for a very long time".

"You are truly blessed that you will also be a part of the one I love and cherish the most. I am entrusting you with my…heart" well-adjusted.

Nero's hands restored onto Vergil's chest warily who stoked his wet strands from his face sensitively, knowing the child seated in front was just as delicate as Dante. "This marking is our pledge and devotion to you...that we will remain by your side. You will never walk on your own...for we will become your shadows" the words of honour from the Son of Sparda.

Nero's smile surfaced, he couldn't help it. Vergil was convincing in his advices but he had never reflected on the simple fact that Dante had accepted him too. It seemed too good to be true but his heart had already made up his mind. He could never resist Vergil.

"Yes", he obeyed into his guardian's ear..."I want to be marked" the returning vow of trust.

They would be one family and he would give his life for them. He belonged here.

Vergil knew Nero wouldn't decline and had moved onto the second problem, how to obtain his germ, answering. "You have my consent" even-tempered.

Nero's eyes widened in shock, unable to answer, they had just conversed in their heads.

The elder heartened, "it will allow you for further control of your powers".

"I would prefer if you test them on me".

The younger freaked, "what if I…fuck up...I just got them under control and..."

Vergil slid hindmost to rest against the walls dragging Nero with him whose face reddened in agony as their members brushed together, remembering where he was currently seated...hands resting on Vergil's side and not on his torso. He didn't want to get hard.

Vergil was unsympathetically analysing him "proceed" the firm directive.

Nero was reduced motionless, "I…" uneasy.

Vergil kept in check his frustration, "would you like me to pretend to be asleep like last time. You're nervous and it could substantiate to be deadly for me". The icy devil was being empathetic.

Nero couldn't be more obliged, "I…you…it's just, I get tense when you...look at me" concerned.

Vergil sealed his eyes amenably. Nero wasn't the only one who would be having a close call now. If the hybrid lost control he would breathe his last breath. There were no second chances but he had to be the one to explore Nero's power to see if these blazes were now under his command, in view of Dante being around the fledgling he had to be deemed safe. Quite a few minutes passed by as the juvenile continued to sit stationary on top of him. The sound of droplets and Nero's inhales was all Vergil could hear, waiting genially for the hybrid to take control whose eyes were viewing the rise and fall of his torso with reverence, lungs living in his spoor. Nero's claw drifted above Vergil's heart as he linked their beats. The indigo lights spirited in tempo. He was ready to unleash his caged devil.

"My love for you" was the gruff invocation.

To which the elder unlocked his eyes. Nero's wings were unfolded, eyes flaming red. Vergil was trapped inside a cataract of cobalt flames. The fledgling's tresses were lengthening and expanding. Nero inclined into his lips in craving, tongue splitting the sanctified entrance to enter the fount he wished to bathe in…Vergil's soul.

"I want to become...your skin" the prerequisite admission.

The righteous flames passed into the elder's throat stinging as they journeyed his lungs, Nero's trunk pushed against his ensnaring him, immovable. Vergil destroyed the tiles, overawed by the power that had hit him like a typhoon. Nero was pouring through his body in pursuit of the everlasting spring that he had uncovered; no one else could ever grasp this place but him. The teen had found faith here. Becoming the respires that Vergil was absorbing, one with his living skin cells as they reproduced, the pulsating thumps of his thundering heart, the blood privileged inside his veins. They were burning together as one, breathless, Vergil devil-triggered, incapable to regulate this outpouring of energy that had struck his inner pores.

Nero was observing the cerise eyes of the devil he had visualized all his life to find he was flesh and bone. Their extensions coming together as he understood the depths of his hungers, clawed hand is exacting Vergil's face and fangs to arrest them amid his fingers. Entirety he had sought was inside this man's heart…undying love. The iridescent youth, destined for pinnacles of each realm was sinking in Vergil's life-force, losing control, panting in spell, ecstasy and adulation as the opposing devil bit into the nape of his flesh.

The adolescence didn't protest, cutting his own lips as the abrasive tongue looped the bite, sucking, lapping and drinking his given blood. Stinging and burning as a second bite was unfeelingly enforced. This flesh belonged to his guardian to do as he pleased. The infernos repairing his wounds, anew, the blood trailing his abdomen, the devil licked it from his chest ensuring not a drop escaped. Tongue gliding his nipples, sharpened teeth grinding them. The dazed fledgling sighed in pleasure, pain and aching, dropping air and collapsing on top of Vergil's chest that rapidly de-triggered, wings omitted.

"Idiot!", he sounded, bashing the teen's body to the floors and impelling his ceased heart, breathing into him violently. Vergil chafed his teeth and tried again, breathing life. Nero coughed and he elevated his crown grudgingly so he could breathe without difficulty, furious and justly so. These two would be the death of him and he had brashly made them his accountability. The blue devil had duly signed his death warrant. Every term was strained.

"You are...the foremost...imbecile imp that I have had the misfortune of meeting. Which fool would forget to…breathe?”

Eyes violent, "must you die every second your with me...it's starting to get slightly...wearisome" the concluding irony.

Nero shut his eyes, "I'm sorry...I know am not good enough to be…with you".

Vergil observed the fresh tears sprawling, feeling guilt. These tears were the key weapon the two of them had against him. He had hurt the adolescent forgetting how highly he regarded him. The annoyed elder returned the weeping child into the safety of his arms, waiting for the coloration to break his smooth skin. The bite mark was noticeable but the finishing tattoo was unfilled. Something had gone wrong, Vergil's mind rereading the formality before asking the pertinent question.

"Did you orgasm?"

Vergil's straight face made Nero gawk clumsily.

The other skewed his head intensified, "it is crucial you climax for the mark to seem".

Nero felt stupid. The moment he was about to orgasm he had passed out. Now he felt petrified at the prospect of what the elder was asking. He had never been sexually intimate with anyone, remembering the moment Akira had...Vergil had seen the whole thing the recall made his heart descent.

Vergil stroked his cheek overhearing his trail of thoughts. "I should have aided you sooner, it was my mistake. I'm sorry...I adjourned".

Nero felt empty, "it wasn't your mistake...I should have saved myself".

The contemplative elder was inspecting his form. Nero felt insecure as he critically reviewed his physique, his member wilted under the strength of the eyes that had hypnotized him. Jawbones evidently scrunching as Vergil contested in his mind. He didn't want to penetrate Nero, his body had grieved immense trauma and he didn't wish to add more.

"I will complete the ritual tomorrow" the decision.

Nero clutched his shoulders instantly, "no, please…let's…continue I want to be marked" he maintained.

Vergil lifted his thighs and erected, "this can be deferred and your body needs rest. Exerting it any further could prove to be dangerous" astute.

Nero sat cross-legged on the ground in let-down as Vergil unclogged the hole in the bathtub to drain the bloody waters, silence succeeded. Nero peeked, Vergil didn't want to touch him physically and he had blown his only chance with his fires…what now? He always fucked up around him. The elder released the taps and started to clean the bathtub with the attached shower head. Nero drew the seashell which was marked by his blood. He stared around and knew he could have died here. Vergil's voice had pulled him back from nonexistence.

"I...don't know how to read or write" he acknowledged to his extremely sophisticated guardian. "I think I heard you telling me a…story but I…can't read" feeling completely inferior.

Vergil came over and jerked the ends of his locks which were falling past his shoulders, enumerating their advances. "I will educate you as a part of your combat training" he guaranteed, good-looking face immersed as he indicated towards the tub. "Sit" the summoning.

The confused teen got in warily and sat down obediently. Eyes bursting as Vergil pushed him forwards and settled behind him. Legs clasping his body, Nero stiffened not wanting to lean back. Vergil pushed his chest down so he was positioned on top of him. Vergil gripped the shower head and verified the waters with his fingertips. The uncomfortable teen could feel his every muscle and exchange...he had never felt sanctuary like this. Arms coming around his stressed figure as Vergil elevated the sprinklers above Nero's face, warm fingertips weaving through his knotted curls, about his forehead, inside his ears, purging the blood, fingers drifting down his chest, over his hardened nipples, down the borders of his stomach charting his hips, the subtle hints sending thought-provoking convulsions...emotive.

The teen's devil arm reacting by freeing faint light in the unlit room, a wild firefly was caught inside a controlling palm. Vergil kissed his cheek recurrently, fingers rubbing his puckering lips and slipping between them. The silent fledgling sucked the hands that had always come to his release, warm blows on his neckline, tongue trailing his collar. Nero was about to break inside Vergil's arms, demanding hands slipping lower between his legs, riveting his palpitating member. Nero moaned inaudible and Vergil detained his chest so he couldn't pull away, biting his earlobe.

Vergil heartened, "I know this is imperative to you, for now, you must have faith in me to do this...for you…"

He progressed to stroking Nero considerably, the blood hastening as the younger man groaned unable to grasp his feelings and fleshly pleasures. Laying back, hips poignant body captivated eyes half open, face flushed, burning up, gripping the sides of the tub unsure where to place these hands that were dying to touch the one leaving him quivering. Vergil let go of the shower which fell upon their feet, watering gushing upwards as he bowed Nero's head and kissed his lips making him shiver. Vergil's warmish tongue sucked, licked and swallowed...tantalizing. The teen's hands clasped his face which was now floodlit, mane lightened, eyes translucent. Nero couldn't look away.

Vergil let go to slurp on his neck where he had made his mark, one hand testing his nipples which he nudged capably. The strokes becoming harder and faster making Nero murmur his name and turn around to face him. Lying down on top, hips moving against the source of his neediness, heart wagering as Vergil lowered, curving his back and biting into his nipples, encircling grazing, warm and raw as Nero ground. He couldn't take anymore of Vergil's kindness...these profound traces were overfilling his heart which was about to erupt. His body wasn't used to being loved and neither was his soul. The teen was about to burst forth but prevented. Remembering the first time he had seen Vergil's face inside that jail.

"Vergil" he shook.

The blue devils arms tightened, he was listening.

"I..." he couldn't recall if he had thanked his guardian for saving him?

Vergil tugged his mane forcing his head to dip, fuelling a succulent kiss. Nero's arm wrapped his redeemers. Lost in the blizzard of desire that was trickling over as his body coiled within Vergil's who released his hold on his member, hardened muscles gliding over each other freeing their hands to marvel, Vergil was keeping a close eye on the marking. If it didn't appear the younger would be deeply wounded, doubling his efforts, hands squeezing Nero's thighs, hips, ass, urging his body to submit. Wreaking contusions the way he had on Dante, making the one receiving sigh loudly. Teeth scraping, hips plunging, the young devil bulking but wouldn't give in. Vergil sensed something was amiss. Nero halted his bodily urges, breathless, evading his face.

Vergil cupped his jaw, "what's the matter?"

Nero's claw rested over his, "I...I love you" he faltered, indeterminate, distrustful and self-doubting.

The younger was still waiting to hear these words that had yet to leave his lips, anxious eyes holding his polished stare. He wanted to know if Vergil loved him. It meant more to Nero than anything carnal. It was Vergil's turn to avert his gaze. Nero had his answer and let go, amused and crestfallen. Dante wasn't the only one who emanated compassion, wounded eyes withdrawing. Love would always flee him no matter how hard he pursued…swallowing reality.

Vergil cupped, "you really are just...a snivelling child", conveyed by ruthlessly pinching the red cheeks before him. He had by now figured the hybrids weak spot making him bite on his lips in pain, and incline towards his tug as he broke the news, "that I have foolishly fallen in love with".

Nero stared at the tub stunned, eyes brimming with new tears, "you" repeating his brother's say.

Vergil frowned, "why are you crying now?"

Nero was even more stressful to deal with considering the previous problematic marking and he was beginning to get irritated.

"I'm just really happy" the overwhelmed youth disclosed, smiling and crying.

The elder stealthily licked the tear from Nero's eye that was too slow to react, getting jabbed in the procedure by a pushy tongue.

"Aah, what…what was that for" he whined.

Vergil savoured it between his lips. "I wish to learn the difference between happy and sad ones".

Nero licked the corner of his lips where a fresh tear had settled, "there's a difference" he asked attentively. He knew very little about his demonic side and was a thorough virgin, tasting.

Vergil dipped his head in a matter of fact way, "one has said, they contrast, but they both taste…salty", he cross-examined, strategic mind processing but not prevailing.

Nero burst out laughing, knowing it could only be the old man. The laughter was transmissible. Vergil smiled effusively and the teen could have sworn he saw a dimple. The sight made his heart even more gratified, the introverted youth eased into his rescuers lips and deep-seated a trivial kiss. Unpredictable breathes escalating at the closing distance between their skins.

"I love you", he outstretched to osculate the face he had fallen in love with.

"Can I...touch you" gaining consent softly.

Vergil didn't know how much longer he could stay aware. The combustion's had struck him hard and he was still handling their restful affects, Nero's voice and face was becoming ill-defined, trying to stay vigilant to complete the ritual which was demonstrating to be extremely demanding. Nero embraced lovingly and asked for his approval once more.

"Can I", eyeing the body before him with innocent awareness. He had never imagined he would be here, having wondered like a restless cloud, to halt his aimless sways above the one he loved and shower upon them nirvana.

"Can I...love you?"

Exploring Vergil's mane, the way Dante had when he had watched them together in the shower, sketching his body the way the red devil did. Meaningful, this is exactly what he had wanted all along, to be a part of their endless love.

"The two of you" he rectified, "I…want to love" placing doting kisses all over the elders tired expression whose head was now latent on his rib cage. He had never believed in God, so why did it feel...that today all his heart-felt prayers had been answered.

"I want to love" the melting words resonated through his very being.

Vergil closed his eyes as Nero's conflagrations bound their skin, coiling their bodies in luminous light, the bringer winding. The radiating adolescence was drying his skin and locks making sure not a single cut or scar flecked his body. Vergil was floating inside a familiar dream watching his mother dance. Everyone clapped as she held Sparda's shoulder and brushed her feet. Her husband left her side to attend to Dante who was being his ill-behaved self and downing like a true fanatic. Vergil strode towards her, his tall frame making a graceful entry through the gathering. Eva turned around in surprise as he bowed his head in respect and held out his hand.

"Mother, would you care to dance" he wished.

Eva stood wordless. Eyes gushing with pride at the accomplished man that stood before her. Taking Vergil's hand tentatively who gripped her fingers gradually and took her in his arms. Eva couldn't take her eyes away as he harmonized her pace, turning and weaving with chic. Her sons had always made her proud and she knew that Vergil would give his soul for Dante. Eva hid her face overwhelmed. Vergil ceased.

"Mother" his heart ached.

Eva wiped her tears and squeezed his hands "Vergil...please, find him!"

Her regal son scanned the crowd and noted his father was absent. Where was Sparda? The room confusing as his eyes wavered open. Vergil shuddered when he felt his member being submersed in hot and tightened flesh that wasn't ready for penetration. Nero had mounted him, forcing his body open for the muscle that would unite them, longish hair obscuring his pained expression as he struggled to adjust his weight. The act was raw but worth endeavouring.

"Nero!", Vergil voiced, he too was in equal pain as the walls constricted him.

The teen didn't halt his actions, gaze unwavering, "I want to...for you, I'd do anything" expression rising and falling as he lowered his hips all the way without reserve.

Vergil released his tresses and rose to discern his face as their bodies connected, bearing the full weight of their bulks. Nero was strong-minded and wanted to be marked tonight, he was just as convoluted to appreciate as his brother. This sexual act he was about to implement would have to be faultless for it meant everything to the secluded adolescence. The teen wrapped his shoulders, unconfident, all in. The blue devils right hand enclosed his strained erection to which Nero sighed softly...Vergil's body arose to plunge within, thrusting and dipping steadily, without restraint, filling the younger with his flesh. The receiving youth bowed in tremor inside his arms, hips replicating in a downhill motion as they made love bodily to complete the unfinished ritual that would seal their enduring promises. Fate worked in ways that could never truly be predicted.

"I...love you" the hybrids fervent verses.

Vergil locked his lips industriously in reply. This kiss was the final declaration of love, tongues twisted, eyes sheltered…mouths opening and closing erotically. What had been set and could never be undone as their bodies surpassed all bounds of reciprocated exhilaration, nearing spillage. The rivers that had set a different course would now merge and flow as one towards a singular ocean. Vergil hauled Nero into his physique and licked his neck where the bite was bleeding; the teen tethered a grunt as the deferential fingers clasped his member, narrowing over his dripping head...thrusts and plunges rocking out of balance and control, reaching their limits. The younger ejaculated in quick successions as did Vergil with heavy sleep driven eyes, panting, perspiring and waiting for the marking as it finally emerged. A sigh of reprieve and lassitude as two weapons entrenched the fledgling's glistening flesh. Mato reined the interior traversed by what else but the renowned firearms...Ebony and Ivory.

"It is done...Nero" the quiet reassurance from the one on the verges of subduing languor.

The ecstatic teen kissed his crest, "thank you…I will never let any of you down...I promise" staring at one another as they fixed their breathing in dreamy tremors.

Nero separated from his flesh to commence the showers again and begun to wash Vergil's body who was feeling extremely light-headed. The vision he had seen was keeping him diverted as the youth bathed his skin. Taking his time the way Dante had, strengthened hands drifting from place to place without disinclination. How could the elder not succumb to the peaceful rest that waited? Vergil's head thumped against the youth's chest in retort that held him before he could fall sideways, Nero's hands clinching his shoulders, steadying, as he surrendered to the powerful all-encompassing blazes. These full-blooded devils had fatigued even him and he required the restitution.

Nero's wings arose and enclosed Vergil's sleeping figure, elevating him out of the tub and into his bedroom, walking in assured strides, laying Vergil in bed not wanting to let him go for an instant. These precious moments had made him forget the seashell. Nero didn't need to care for mementos; his skin was one with his brother's. No fears of separation or any lingering doubts, they were one and nothing could ever divide them. Nero was finally home. Vergil's body pressed into his with natural crusade, legs twisting amid his, "sleep" completing his final act of duty even in his benumbed senses.

The teen's sweetened smile shone, replicating his teacher and entwining their figures, snug and warm he sketched Vergil's face with his talons incapable to keep his eyes from worship. Soft light revealing, seeing over his guardian with piety, stealing another kiss to confirm this holy reality, gripping Vergil's fingers…wanting to hide him from the world. Partaking Dante's passions and arching his wings. The realms, this life...existence had never been so surpassing thanks to the one lying down beside him. Love encircled and his eyes shut graciously afore. So this is what it felt like to be loved and accepted.

Nero felt a hand land on his head, "found you" she nestled him falling backwards on the generous meadow.

"Mama", he clasped her curls which had always smelled of cherries.

"I miss you my sweet child", she kissed his rosy cheeks...eyes swollen with affection.

"I am so glad...so, so, glad...Nero. I am...so glad, my love...your home" she uttered gazing at the sky profoundly as a butterfly fluttered over them. Elating her hand it floated onto her subtle fingertips.

Nero sat up as she bought it to his eyes. A monarch flashed its splendour before hovering away, pink petals were raining down on them and had settled all around him, velvety and numerous. The meadow was a salient pink...he took bunches in his tiny fists and stared at the source. A secluded Sakura tree that occupied his dreams was standing tall in front of a lake that was his play area. Vergil was erected beneath the trees lush branches, back turned as he viewed the water lilies with his usual attentiveness. Leon was stooping and liberating a fistful of earth from his hands as Dante hung curiously overhead. Eyes bantering as he theatrically fell on one knee and presented a purple flower clenched in his choppers making the blonde laugh reluctantly and shove the rascally devil away, plummeting on his butt.

Nero turned to his mother but she was gone. The three distinct men forever present. The glowing youth pondered if he had died in that bathroom, uncertain. Where was this place, where was he right now? If this was a dream where was his reality? If he opened his eyes would he lose this blissful place? Maybe, he didn't want to wake, smiling, as the trio of fascinating men marched his way.


	27. Our Home

Nero enthused from a musing vision. Easy-going respires caressing his chest, a different physique was mixed-up with his. He viewed to find untidy fur obfuscating a distinct face. The attar had changed. Nero attuned the silver threads to find Dante sound asleep, his scent was one he had never borne, for it was a floret that would cultivate in the gardens of the affluent, not deprived. A rose, distinct from the wildernesses he was conversant with. Nero had come to hate this scent. Only the rich landowners grew roses in their lawns, embellishing their households. This celebrated flower inadvertently became an emblematic token of opulence for the undue.

Past acrimony had veiled his eyes, for the rosette was a pictogram of love. The teen drew closer to view the tattoo gentrifying the red devil's neck with human fingers, carefully, not wanting to awaken the individual more precious than the air he was living. Vergil's heart lay bare inside his arms, tracing Dante's lips, retreating, unconfident if he was allowed to taste these petals for their true riches. Two roguish hands contradicted, plain sailing down his spine, seizing his rumps for a vigorous fondle.

"How you holding up kid", thick expression resulted as the hunter coped with widening one eyeball, displaying he cared.

Nero fumbled in embarrassment, "better...old man".

Fixing a kiss on Dante's forehead hastily, trying to hold back fondness presently bursting at the seams, treading warily, body mindful of his every move as the other nuzzled firmer.

"This isn't so bad...I got someone to cuddle with when Verge wakes up at his…ungodly hours" stretching.

Dante fixed his thigh over his well-proportioned hips to get accustomed. Nero let him lead, inexact of his emotional state, inspecting the room to distract his responsiveness. This modest dwelling was a home because of his brother's, without them, it would simply be another slammer. The teen's gentle gaze couldn't withdraw from Dante, peripatetic…fidgety hands seeking refuge inside his unchallenging hair. Heart thumping as Dante leisurely skimmed his tongue over his sore marking, quaffing in astonishment, eyes flying open in exhilaration, staring at Nero, than the mark, head swivelling back and forth, before infolding hard enough to make the confused adolescent cough. Nero murmured in pain and had no choice but try to heave the old man off before he could seriously impair him.

Dante's inaudible words shadowed, "so proud, I could...cry" lifting him on top of his frame to see it right.

Nero blew in torture, "old man...you're smothering me".

The enthralled hunter snickered, "kid, I feel like a first time dad", he licked the mark thankfully.

“See, I just got Mato, but you have Ebony and Ivory, which means you are my responsibility, too".

Unwilling to use the word mate, still trying to handle the dubious dealings that had passed between them and the fact that he was, without question, a second-rate pop.

Nero was relieved, the old man was feeling the same way, "where's...Vergil?"

Dante fixed his arms behind his head, "4:30 a.m. to 12:00 p.m. is Mato and Verge lone stint. I used to get in the way and stop him from leaving but I owe Mato…I love that blade, but don't tell him that" keeping the kid posted.

Nero was jumbled, "Mato…" pitching on top of his inviting trunk.

Dante burnished his tender neckline, "lick mine too, it's burning like a bitch and I had a heck of a long night". His ass and hips hadn't recovered either, wanting to keep them that way.

The youth’s brows furrowed but he licked the tattoo thoroughly.

"Aah, hell yeah" the hunter relaxed in support, "use your tongue and not your teeth" he quickly verbalized.

Nero's eyes thinned, "you don't have to make it sound so, so…dirty old man" suddenly hot and uncomfortable over what was arising.

The grinning devil seized his neck, "considering you tried to murder me I have my reservations".

The kid snort finding the remark hilarious. Dante whinged, he was being serious. The teen had tried to waste him…twice, possibly three, counting the credulous leech attack.

Nero's hands gripped his fingers closing his eyes he kissed his palm. "I would never hurt you. I'd die before I let anything happen...to you".

Dante's sockets amplified at the debatable change in outlook. He didn't think their rapport would alter radically but the kid's gaze spoke otherwise, revising him with love the way the cute blonde had. Either way, he was sceptical their mind-altering blood was the likely cause. Nero was on a high, so to speak. The sensual youth was susceptible prey to bedevil but he was finding it hard to test him since he wasn't proving to be his gutsy self. Where was the fun in joshing when your opponent was altered beyond recognition? Leaving him on a downer, he liked the kid's violent nature and didn't know how to counter all this love business.

Dante's stare delayed on the rounded lips, long hair and a reasonably splendid build. Adolescent used to be adorable but the racy spectacle now was making him horny beyond redemption. What the fuck was going on? The hunter stabilised his debauched intentions, undeniably a discreditable parent, layering Nero's body under the covers, out of his predacious radar. Even he didn't know how they were supposed to behave and the best person to ask was away.

Vergil would educate if he happened to survive another day, in light of the nightmare that had charted last night. Having arrived late, the demonic arms had made other plans. The coup had been commanded by the redhead with boisterous boobs. Nevan had used her "assets" to sweet-talk the other, not so bright, dumbasses into visiting a private club in their demonic forms. By the time Dante had showed up to end their good times the place was left in rubble. Luckily, there were no human fatalities and nobody in their right mind would believe the paranormal shit that had gone down. So he hoped. He knew his older brother would hang him for his failure.

Vergil was going to be out all day tying up loose ends and fortifying their new home to keep the duo safe. He was suited to the role of an Emperor, formulating new mechanisms in the art of war, fatal in more than one way, a true tactician. Dante was your ordinary private who had come to heavily rely on his brother's marvellous traits to be permitted the extravagance of sleeping in and doing nada.

Nero pulled his spaced out look towards him, "Mato..." listening to his heartbeats, devil arm replicating his pulsates with periodic light.

The hunter noticed, inspecting his mesmeric claw, "remember the katana that you saw, which was about to take your head off".

Nero sulked and waggled.

"That's Yamato, Verge's only weapon. I will present you to everybody, tomorrow. I really can't handle waking them up again". He had migraine thinking about it and they wouldn't keep their traps shut in front of Vergil.

The youth outlined Dante's rib-cage, burning his skin "are they...humans", lifting the sheets away from their bodies, observing their unified physique.

Dante tapped his head clumsily, trying to act spontaneous. The kid was making him hot, "some of them have, ah, demonic forms. Mato and Rebellion have secreted their identities, so I and Verge have never seen what they really look like" disclosing family secrets.

Nero judged the sleeping Rebel respectfully. Mato was absent. Wanting to hear everything about the twins and what they preferred. Dante raised a hand over his cheek, about to add something when the youth scraped his fingers reflexively within his wet lips, their eyes connected. Their bond had altered overnight and they were just catching on. Nero felt his heart puncture when the red devil pulled away, unaware of the fact that he had just delivered a bombshell boner to the elder's groin who was sneakily containing the bad boy from his sight. This surplus fondness was getting out of hand. Dante's brain inspiring stimulating sexual scenarios of the suggestive kind, grating moans, hoarse cries and pleasurable pelvic plunges. He purified his aberrant mind with imagined holy water like a chaste priest clashing with his inmost devil.

The said pastor smiled playing it cool, "I followed him once to see what he gets up to".

Nero was taking note, silent.

Dante intrigued, "strange part is Mato takes on Verges appearance, becoming his double, the only form he likes. I couldn't tell them apart until they finished their drill and sat down. Verge was the one watching the horizon, Mato wouldn't turn away from his face" cleverly differentiating.

His belly arbitrated, ruining the memory. He was starved and the thought of pizza made his mouth salivate. "On second thoughts let's eat, the prison food made me lose a few pounds", patting his astounding figure despite the full-fat regime.

Nero sat up dropping the sheets to discern the palpable erection before him. The owner of the said knob yawned loudly, "no need to gawk like that, its morning glory" indicating to his climbing squaddie to exhibit his point. The blushing teen abruptly covered his stimulated flesh, grooming his long hair. Dante tugged it the way Vergil had making him smirk.

"I know…I need a haircut...old man", reading-through.

Dante skimmed the shiny strands behind his ear, critiquing him, "I like it long…don't get it cut".

Nero coloured even more. These crystal eyes were just as eye-catching as Vergil's and it was his first ever complement. Coming from the hunter it meant a lot. Dante's stubble buffed his skin, leaving it prickly, as he kissed his jaw and slipped out of bed, opening their closet and taking a pair of dark pyjamas and t-shirt for Nero, tossing them over his shoulder. The nude teen clothed, the attire held both men's scent. The red devil glided into a pair of blue cottons, deciding on no top. Frisking around naked would sadly end here in the civilized world.

Dante sailed past and hopped the banister. Glancing the time on the wall, it was in fact 5 p.m. They had slept past mid-afternoon, feeling bolstered. He tested the ancient phone and dialled the only number his brain had protected…for the love of fine pizza. Order done his next objective was forgotten in the kitchenette. Nero flew down on the leather sofa. The first time in years he had slept so well. The hunter's spoor hadn't left his skin, all the places where their breathing tissues had emanated were now struggling at the abrupt coldness, heart encouraging and voicing to get closer to the source of his present aching. Dante tossed and the youth held.

"We're saved" he sat down on the floor and started to chug his beer, burping, "what you waiting for kid, drink up. I know this is your first and it's only fair that I share it with you. Verge will teach the mind-numbing stuff and me the fun" twittering the troubles ahead.

Nero sited over him, "you remembered?" He couldn't hide his warmth. He had told Dante he had never drunk the first day they met...touched.

Dante scratched his knee, "how could I forget" he held up his beer, "to freedom".

The teen bumped energetically, "freedom", popping the tab, taking a large swig, grimacing…"tastes like…shit" stumped.

The hunter crunched his second can, moving onto thirds, pondering if he had any whisky left? He headed for the drawer on his knees and nearly broke down in deliverance at the full bottle of Jack Daniels that hailed his sights. Bringing it over, he overheard accustomed knocking…someone else would be joining their happy get-together.

The red devil answered the gates, thrilled. "Well it took you long enough...what happened this time?"

Nero squint, the old man had gone senile and was apparently talking to him or himself since he couldn't spot anybody near the doors. A tiny shrieking sound sent chills down his spine and he thought he caught movement next to Dante's legs as he ambled back into view. The startled youth shot a fireball, out of pure reflex, at the foulest dolly he had ever seen. Dante snatched Giselle before she could be crisped, the ill-fated floors receiving the first scorching of many, many more to come.

"Calm down kid she's an acquaintance" he detained the vexed and screeching toy.

Nero continued to gaze in repulsion as the doll hissed. Teeth size of gators, hollow eyes pitch-black vacuums of fright, pink dress in strips, fully bald...hideous. Legs and body plastered by timeworn medical tape, having taken repeated hammerings. He tucked in his legs when Giselle tried to lunge at them.

"W-what the hell is that…that...thing?!"

Dante monitored her, "be nice, she takes her appearance very seriously".

Giselle was soothed by his tending hands. He must have been the one to tame this thing. She was squeaking in a language he didn't know.

"A dog huh" the one listening did, fixing her outfit.

"You're getting slow Giselle" putting her down.

Giselle was gazing up at the ceiling having picked up Vergil's odour, she howled in glee.

Dante wobbled his head, "Verge is still out…with Mato...you want to die, go ahead, am not fixing you", supped his beer, tired.

Giselle collapsed on the floor. Yamato was her sworn nemesis.

Nero grinned "where did you find her?" Taking another swallow, the warm beer didn't taste so bad.

The bushed red devil parked himself in the middle of his legs, raising his thighs over his broad shoulders. The hunter was more strapping compared to Vergil's lean figure, opting out of the other's intense routine…just as fetching.

"Her name is Giselle. She's Verge's biggest demonic fan girl and she's in this crappy state since he refuses to take her in".

This causative exchange meant nothing to him but for Nero it was critical, his body uniting with Dante's, driving his hunger to absorb his spirit the way he had his guardians.

Dante bit his finger and held it out to Giselle who sucked on it, "I'm domesticating her so she can stay. Verge likes things if they are handy. I'm making her useful to him". Giselle let his finger go, "she would die now, since she doesn't feed on human blood" smiling.

Nero respected the man sitting with him, "she would look kind of cute if you bought her a new dress and a wig".

Giselle caught and appeared beside the newest follower, making him jolt. Sniffing his scent and giving him the creeps this close up. She held her dress wanting one straightaway to look attractive for Vergil. Nero didn't know what she required…baffled.

Dante picked up the Daniels and took swigs straight from the bottle, "I leave it to you since your family now".

Nero couldn't believe it. He had just received the words he was so desperate to hear, with no trouble. To be accepted by the twins, meant everything. He swigged the remaining beer in cheerfulness. Dante passed another can when they heard the door again.

"Giselle, be a good girl and get that" pizza was going to be free of course. The pizza man's girly yelp was cut short by the door thumping shut transporting the boxes on her cranium she opened the box loyally for Dante.

"Good girl..." he approved.

Her coach supplied a hot slice to Nero who munched in record time without tasting, scorching his mouth. Pizza was an extravagance he hardly ever had. The junk food enthusiast licked his fingers and helped himself to a large slice as they dug in. The meek pleasures of life were worth appreciating seeing as what they had been through. Nero detected the large black bag that lay on the ground. A wave of power-driven energy was drawing at his bringer. There were weapons inside that bag, demonic ones. He had so many things to ask the old man and didn't know where to start, remembering the most urgent one.

"Hey Dante...will you teach me how to hide my thoughts…" fretful.

The hunter lolled his muscly arm over his knees, "will explain right now if you finish all the beer".

The youth was abruptly hesitant, he didn't want to get drunk in case he lost control and got carried away by his ever-increasing moods. He had a resilient compulsion to be intimate with Dante. Also, a small part of him still didn't trust the old man after he lied to him about flying. He had been made to look like a chump in front of Vergil who he seriously wanted to impress at all times…disputed.

The alluring red devil was finishing his whisky, "what's the worst that could happen?"

The verses were inventively decoyed, feeling smashed. Booze was deadening his self-possessed mind as he imaged Nero in an erotic pink and white nurse's outfit, with tacky bonnet, making him neigh. He knew he could have a hell of a lot of fun with the kid drunk and consenting. Dante really was an evil spirit. The hot adolescence had lovely legs which he was feeling up, body and heart concurring with his unethical character, speculating what had happened to the moral priest? It seemed in the course of baptism the divine vicar had sunk in the holy waters leaving his devil unchecked…time to have some fun, fangs glinting.

Nero positioned the crate beside him, "better keep your word Dante" he pressed trustingly.

The fiend chuckled, "better finish that case, than we talk" groping, as he visualised sexy white stockings.

The single-minded youth got to work, he had four cans to defeat, "alright, let's do this".

Dante surveyed in glee as the kids cheeks grew rosier, the smile widened to a goofy smirk and he was laid out by the time he was finished, sniggering.

Nero tapped his shoulder, "am ready" he muffled.

Dante was ready too. He slid his hand beneath the sofa and produced a deck of cards, shuffling them, appreciating he was also drunk. Perhaps, he should have taken it easy on the whiskey but the fatty pizza had made him fatally thirsty. Licking his lips in motivation as the youth quietly admired him from afar.

Dante recapped, "why do you want to learn kid, it's not like we got anything to hide".

Nero grouched "when I was baby, I played alone, once I…found a shabby shed in one of the fields, inside were cute chicks, little…golden. I wanted to hold one so bad…one of them looked just…like you" flattering him, obviously.

Dante was gobsmacked, "kid?" Where had this story abruptly sprung from and was he just likened to a hatchling!

The drunk teen scoured his face, "I held him, warm, soft…until it appeared behind me…the cock…it went bok, bok…buckawk".

The kid did the rooster impression rather well making Dante congest his laughs, wanting to hear the end of this epic saga, glued.

Nero puffed "I put the babe down and stepped away from the nest…" heavy sigh.

"Its red thing on its head and…on its chin wobbled as it did a…dance", upset.

Dante was keen to see the dance but Nero was too slothful to display.

"It was a trick, getting me close enough it pounced on me, with its claws and beak. I ran as fast as I could but it hunted me…and since that day me…" pained.

The overcome hunter bit his fist to hold back his hilarity avoiding the kids solemn face, "you're…scared of poultry…should have roasted him and enjoyed some organic fried chicken" offering an alternative end to the harrowing tale of man vs chicken.

Nero flinched, "it was a rooster…not a chicken", correcting soberly "and it was their pops, he, he was defending them…named plucky".

"I don't want...him to know these things about me" brutally open. "I...want to hide myself. Vergil called me an idiot imp, coz of the way I think and do. I know, I'm imp, but I...want to be cool in his eyes…like you".

He belched loudly, "what was I saying?"

Dante draped his arms about his shoulders, "I think you're cool, first time I saw you…never change...who you are" equally frank.

Nero was quieted, inept to express his contentment he delivered a bout of faint kisses all over the good-looking face before him, "am cool...like you" he hiccuped.

Dante took them well considering he had fallen asleep. Giselle occupied his vacant shoulder, infatuated by Nero who was just as attention-grabbing, jerking his hair a little bumpily and patting her bare pate. "Ouch" he pouts, trying to free his tresses from her firm clutch.

The dozing devil came around abruptly. "Alright kid, you ready to learn", skidding a few cards out and laying them down on the floor. It was the teen's turn to take a rapid nap, stabbing his cheek.

Nero slapped his hand, "am up".

Dante was combating to stay alert. "See...the trick is to have a poker face where no one can guess what're thinking and follow that". He picked up a Jack and slipped it behind Nero's ear. "Am going to think of the card and allow you to peek in my mind and then shut you out". He didn't even know if his instructions held any logic.

"Joker" the youth solved assertively.

Dante flicked his head, "concentrate harder, use my thoughts not your fixed perceptions of me" feeling a little insulted.

The reddened teen mumbled incoherently, "no, no, you're...the King or the Ace, the best card in the deck", confessing his heart, "you're the best...that's why Vergil loves you more. I love you too...I swear. I love you, I'd never ever...hurt...want to be just like you" slowing to a stop.

Dante strained to rest the demonstrative youth on the sofa who wedged his shoulders, "this is better...l-let me, love you" intense. Nero's devil arm was overwhelming his throat. Subconsciously, maybe the kid still had a sturdy impulse to eradicate him. He pulled away wheezing.

"Don't kill me with your love" getting the kid drunk was a very bad idea.

Nero pined in hurt, "you...you don't love me..." eyes stinging in disbelief.

"Vergil said you would love me too" falling backwards, shielding his face.

"I don't get it...what happens if we don't love" distressed.

Dante appraised the teen's doings and words on being a passionate drunk.

"I do love you...uh really" the hunter insisted.

It was the truth, he had only known Nero a few days and made him a huge part of his life surely it couldn't be anything but love?

Nero peeped behind his fingers, eyes bloodshot, "you mean it", sensitively.

"I don't want to weird things between us...coz I love you...do it make me a cheater?!" Frowning confused.

Dante embraced the worried youth, "stop stressing kid, where one family now, you got nothing to worry about" bumping his crown.

Nero shook unsteady, "I just want you to accept me...Dante….please accept me" gritting, paranoid he wasn't wanted.

Dante cupped his grieving face, "why wouldn't I accept you...you're a part of us…see" the wings painted indigo and red kindled and sparked in unity. The troubled teen turned away, he didn't want to cry, feeling overwhelmed.

The hunter was hesitant to react. "It's just the alcohol" he guaranteed. Slapping his back and signing to Giselle to entertain him.

The said dolly happened to be busy braiding Nero's hair from the mid, leaving the sides open. The plait suited him, making him wonder where she could have conceivably learned this art. She had been mislaid for numerous months and may have ended up in a hair and beauty salon. The receiving teen tapped his hair and hugged Giselle, "thank you" seating her in his lap and extracting the Jack from behind his ear and flinging it in the air. "So the trick is to just have a poker face" lesson learned. He was too squandered to play this game, should have learned when sober. Dante caught the card and flung the deck up. They both chuckled as the cards scattered.

Nero caught a few with his devil bringer, "what about Leon", recalling his dreams.

Dante wafted his hair, "can't see him for a few months, Verge's orders. We're really not good for his condition let him recuperate a...little". Blondie wasn't going to escape his clutches...ever.

The teen sank, "but I have to say sorry to him, he helped me and I tried to r-rape him" regretful.

Dante was missing Leon and Ivory, sharing the kid's sappiness. If it wasn't for Blondie he would have been dog food. The guy was unruffled even when dealing with a devil like him, confiding in the kid.

"I owe him an apology too for...jerking him off…against his will", aversely spilled.

The devil had finally come clean about his previous sins. Deciding not to mention the part where he had regrettably scrubbed the fluid over Leon's chest, in hope his plight would absolve his iniquities and balance Karma's unremitting bout. With any luck the universe would pardon his meanderings.

Nero spurt his beer, demoralized, "why did you...do that!?"

Dante moaned "things just….got out of hand...my manhood was at stake and he challenged me to a duel".

Nero's puppy eyes made him feel ashamed.

"You're no Angel either" the angry comeback.

Nero couldn't repudiate, he too was on Leon's blacklist, snuffled, "I hate myself for it...he was the one who reminded me of my…my..." tears falling which he smeared before Dante could see them.

The hunter was quiet, dragging the black bag closer. Nero caught a glimpse of a flashy purple guitar and gold swords as he dug his most valued item. It was a photograph of their family as one, taken when they were both just 12. The teen steadied his hands and elevated the frame to view.

Dante rested his head on Nero's front, "it's the only one I have, of all of us together, my old man and my…mom, Sparda and Eva".

Giselle floated mid-air, thrilled by the sight of Vergil, screeching, he was the only one not smiling in the snap, clawed hand massaging his mane comforting as he voiced.

"Sparda was a...looker, he had dimples, we never inherited, my mom well she...has my smile" full of pride.

The youth watched the tears emerging from his eyes. He bit his lips to hold back his own. Kyrie, his mother, was wounds that were all too real, wiping his tears gently.

"She's beautiful Dante".

Dante took the photo and slid his fingers over Eva's face, "so was your mom..."

Nero's throat filled with aching unable to speak.

Dante's voice trembled, "your flames, when they absorbed me...I saw Eva, she was real...and she told me Sparda was...alive" staring at the dark knight. Nero held him tighter spotting his uneasiness.

"I believe her...but why hasn't he come to see us? I think of him every day but it's tougher to let go of someone who…leaves you without a word. You never lose hope...can never let them go...stuck".

Nero recalled his own father, the man he had seen on the bank. Where was he and why did he abandon them? His mother's face as she had wept at the sight of him, her suffering and love as they had stroked his fur. Was he still alive…if so, why hadn't this man come to his rescue?

Dante closed his eyes as old cuts were undone, "it wasn't Verge's fault" grief-stricken. "Maybe, Sparda never wants to see us because of Eva, he loved her more than anyone else and we failed to protect her...he left mom in our care and we...let him down. We let him fucking down…even with all our powers…we" wrecked.

The equally suffering youth bid his sapphire flames, cleansing them in their restful lure.

Dante frowned, "that's double-dealing kid, you can't use your happy flames when...I".

Nero sealed the gap between their lips, and he turned away. The teen felt cutting rejection, it was what he had dreaded the most, Dante's refusal. Although afraid, he wasn't discouraged, wrapping the two grieving souls in a balanced light of equanimity. Giselle soared in flight to get away but the adolescence pulled her in with his far-reaching bringer. She wouldn't decease inside his firestorms having consumed Dante's blood. The terrified sprite fought, screeching for mercy as she was mended. The utmost elegant China doll stroked her curls and dress as the youngest devil of this very unique family repaired her presence, hugging her into his chest.

"You're okay" the gentle whisper.

The kind youth wanted to heal Dante by breathing into him, this detachment was an indefinable hurdle that he longed to overthrow, tattoo's blazing, retelling they were one. This fissure was Dante's reservation at his abrupt insurrection to be closer to him. Dante didn't want to take advantage of him, yet Nero wanted nothing more than to break down these walls between them and be the one to tell his brother what he meant to him. To instil his compulsory promise to protect, cherish and revere what he had found. A want to fulfil the oath he had taken before Vergil…to love them as one.

"Can I...kiss you" Nero appealed quietly.

"I...want to be...inside you, to share your scars, to feel what you feel...to endure your pain", infatuated.

Dante was noiseless...meditative.

The adolescence didn't let go, inhaling his breathes, the flames lighting up the dark room. Night had fallen. Tears parching as the adolescence chanted.

"I want to be a…small part of you…only if you let me, please let me. I want to show you what Vergil already knows".

Giselle flew down on the red devil's lap to show him her beautiful self, marching along his thighs. Their connection had developed to the point he would worry if she didn't turn up. Hoping Verge would eventually change his mind. Nero was stroking his mane, navy eyes immovable, face carved in perseverance. Love walled him and it felt virtuous. It could be, the happy infernos were kicking in or he was tapping into his true emotive state. The pain on the kid's face was physical, the inexperience in his actions authentic, the touches bleeding with care. How much more proof did he need that Nero loved him just as much, whether he liked it or not.

Dante snatched the kid's hair and sunk his head, vacillating before kissing his lips. Their kiss was indistinguishable from Vergil's for he was the one who had taught the elder. Nero harmonized without qualms. The blazes exploring Dante's figure as he bonded with his spirit. The receiving devil gasped in shock but was held unwaveringly to be swallowed…uplifting, soporific, enriching and benign. His gift to Dante, conflagrations that were bountiful, munificent and liberating, excessive tongues pirouetting, breathes strengthening, hearts immoderate, lips stinging as they satisfied novel impulses before releasing their holds, spit parting.

Dante grinned and bit Nero's upper lip, leaving it puffy, "not bad for an amateur...kid" feeling like his bright self, their spirits interlining.

Nero sucked his lower lip in solution, drawing them…altered power of speech. "Instil in me, I want to…learn from you" flicking his tongue upwards to savour their spittle.

The red devil was rocked by an orgasm, mouth valedictory in shudder and a substantial groan, "what the...!" gasping.

They both observed as his pants were soiled with "love". Seemed Karma was still at it. Lifting Giselle to a safe expanse, he took off his pants to clean himself, utterly unsure on what had just chanced. Clearly Nero's powers were rather impressive. Wondering how Vergil had fared, having an advanced sexual forbearance. The kid was simpering smugly, advising the nifty fox.

"Don't even think about telling Verge...wait...never ever mention this to Blondie" disturbed.

Dante would rather croak than have Leon knowing the kid had blown him out of the water. Most likely, a high ranking opponent and not the underdog he was made out to be. The hunter's high self-esteem couldn't handle the overthrow and reasoned it was a fluke bought on by the magical flames, booze and booze. Noting they were out of drinks. It was time to go out.

"Let's meet up with the blonde" he decided.

Nero lay back, taking in Dante's stark-naked re-emergence, "like this?" He didn't look any better in his scruffy pyjamas.

Said person was by now making his way out, Nero sat up to follow, Giselle hovered behind them, "seriously old man didn't you say we can't see him".

Dante seized his waist and swung him down, smooching, "life is too short and I want to show you the neighbourhood" lame excuses.

Nero snuggled, influenced with no trouble at all, "take me with you. I guard my baby chick and I love Leon" his role models.

Dante didn't bother remarking kid was fanatical about chickens and loving them. They made their way out deciding to take the roofs to evade trouble. The dozy youth was igniting the dark pathways with his bringer, getting heavy-eyed, Giselle ensuing humming an unnerving song. The teen drooped on his butt at one point unable to keep up. Dante retrieved and decided on a piggyback. The adolescence stuck powerfully, skin getting chilly from the cold night.

"How much further" he asked languorously, unable to feel his face.

Dante was lost, "maybe we should hitch a ride" undecided.

Nero snickered, "but your ass is showing and so is your thingy" grabbing his dangling balls.

The red devil squirmed. "Cut it out".

He didn't need another hard-on, following by instinct when he noted a small playground below. The irresistible urge to try the rides filled him. He flew down and lowered Nero onto a large merry-go-round. He spun it clockwise at average speed for the kid's entertainment making him laugh.

"Faster" he wished. He pushed a little harder and Nero held the bars, "come on old man...don't hold back", cheering him on.

Dante chuckled and flicked with his wrist. The hinges flew off and so did the wheel, hurtling at a perilous speed through the air, launching the teen that couldn't hold on. The young devil tried to adjust his botched landing but his body wouldn't cooperate, brain in la-la land. Dante fluttered to his rescue and slammed into him crashing into the adjacent tree. Nero was feeling wobbly. Dante was holding the wrecked tree trunk which was looming over them, he flung it to one side and the old tree was sadly cut down by the imps.

Checking Nero over with a worried look, "sorry...I may have pushed it too hard" not sure where the wheel had ended up…far.

The dazed adolescence wiped the blood from his rims and straddled Dante's body for examination. He had scratches on his chest which were healing. Nero glowered and held his stomach frantically, feeling queasy. The drinking party was well and truly over.

Dante freaked like a parent who had just watched their child tumble, "what's wrong...Nero!"

The teen sealed his mouth shut and tried to push his liberator to safety, failing miserably. The cautioning was ignored as Dante held on firmly. Nero could no longer hold it in, launching, spraying the worried devil with warm pizza and beer. The combo reeked. Nero hurled the remainder on the floor saving him the second helpings as he swiped his dripping face and chest. Until he made an admission of guilt to Leon there was more to come, he was sure of it. The hunter flicked his hand of slime and remembered all the women's hearts he had shattered. Karma tally was high indeed. Nero was writhing as he transmitted the rest of his sustenance. Taking off his shirt he started to clean Dante's face and chest.

"Sorry" he murmured, remorseful, until he saw the vacant swings.

"Look" giddy, he tore towards them, lengthy legs on the floor as he twisted to sit on the narrow seat.

"Push me...old man" the demand.

Dante sniffed his skin and washed the rest of his face, tresses caked in puke, "hold your horses" he scowled, flicking pieces out but the sight of the kid waiting on the swings made him snigger. He wondered if they were sharing emotions, too excited to care, pacing over and pushing gently on his knees. He remembered the underfed toddler who had gazed upon him, trapped inside that nightmare...now free. Nero stopped the swing mid-motion and propped against his chest. The hunter cuddled his bare stomach.

"I love you too kid" he unburdened, "will never let anything happen to you".

The tipsy teen gripped the chains "show me" he had been craving this from the time he had observed the hypnotic deed.

The hunter's robust hands slid down his chest, breaking, shaping and bruising his spotless flesh. Nero revered the blemishes. He had tried so hard to memorise these actions but could never reproduce them.

"Feels…like I'm"...unsteady, "still dreaming".

Dante suckled his neck belligerently, swaying him lightly, "you're not". Nero sighed to his finishing stains and impassioned voice, "...I feel like we were always meant to find…you" to which the youth kissed his lips keenly, enfolded in a feverish osculation when they were accidentally disturbed.

Giselle had emerged on the swing beside them. The scene was a little petrifying even for their intensifying hard-on's.

Nero whispered with bated breaths, "let's keep going. Leon is waiting", fingers gliding in a trance over his bruises in gratitude.

Dante boosted him up, "hold on to your panties kid", he devil-triggered without warning.

They were climbing into the misty hazes. Nero was awed. He had never taken flight and this was something else. Keeping his eyes fixed on the movements of the devils wings and prevailing figure as it created tumultuous swells and rushes, enfolding his legs about the devil's body as he swung upside down. Viewing the biosphere from alternative directions, he was winged…soaring.

"This is…awesome" he let go, stretching his arms knowing he could never fall.

The just devil fortified, claws bounding his waist, the air-stream, the reverberations, the scene...spectacular. He had tried to end his life and would have lost this instance, life was dear. Nero adulated the blazing eyes of his other guardian, holding him again to hear his pounding heart, the perfect gradual crescendo of melody to this picture-perfect backdrop. They glided over a residential area full of studio flats. Leon was close. Dante mishandled his landing and fell hard on a roof. Nero thumped on his butt and rubbed it slowly. They stared out to check if the coast was clear, it was a dead street. Dante sniffed and traced the odour towards the adjacent apartment. He could feel the tattoo stinging his skin. The drowsy teen noticed and licked it like a sickly kitten. Dante was in utopia but he had to stay attentive. That was when the door opened. His competitor stepped out, eyes augmented.

"This guy" he glared, wanting to shoot apparition swords towards his nemesis.

Chris was dressed smartly in grey trousers and a fitting black shirt. Leon stepped out to walk him to the car. Clad in a pair of grey pants, white t-shirt and black flip-flops. He had been resting, as expected, after his somewhat abnormal ordeal. The sight packed Dante's heart with love. They had only been separated two days but the urge to overpower the attractive blonde and continue their game was uncontainable, about to jump when the youth held him sagely.

"Stop old man, he is with someone" proving to be rational, watching Chris inquisitively, "he's handsome" they hadn't met.

Dante gripped his cheeks and pressed "more than me" taking his frustration out on the tanked-up youth.

Nero rested their temples together, "no, you're more handsome, absolutely...you" kissing his lips making the rowdy devil feel self-assured.

The Dark haired fella was fetching but he wasn't in their group. The compulsion to smudge his territory was animistic. Fortunately for Leon he wouldn't pee on him, throwing Nero over his shoulder and rapidly hopping a few residential homes to get closer to the Land Rover, wanting to hear their one-to-one. Swinging like naked Tarzan towards the hefty tree, right above the car. Teen nearly falling out. Dante seated him on his lap and out of sight. Nero took the opening to nestle and siesta.

The hunter mumbled suspiciously, "warned you Blondie this guy has his eyes on you".

Chris unlocked the door and slid out a carrier bag, "I forgot to give you this, bought a few things to eat".

Leon accepted the bag, without a fight, "it's not like I have nothing to eat at home" unable to help the dig though.

Chris stepped closer, "knowing you, it would be a packet of noodles" irritated.

Leon was holding his neck, his tattoo was responding. Dante's scent lingered in the air. Was he here? Leon glanced around anxious. He had left Ivory under his pillow, the only way he could sleep at night as it whispered Dante's name. He was frantic without them, a strong surge of energy that wouldn't stop pulling him, leaving him uneasy. Leon stared at the floor. He had to get a grip, they would have come to see him by now and hadn't. Meaning, it was over. But the gun was his surety and Vergil had well-known he would need it. Without Ivory for safekeeping…he would have lost his mind. Did they really think he could go back to what he was after putting him through hell and back…truth was, they were all he ever thought about?

Chris grew anxious. "Let's talk properly when I have had a chance to finish the form-filling".

Work had been pandemonium. Their worlds had been pulled upside down by the jail incident. The three of them had been asked to take leave from the bosses due to the newspapers publicity and speculation. The office provisionally closed. Chris was waiting for things to quiet but it was Leon who was keeping his mind occupied. He was withdrawn and becoming introverted. Chris had no choice but to drop by every evening to keep an eye on him, worried sick.

Clasping Leon's shoulder's, "let's talk tomorrow" prompting he was still here.

Leon stepped forward to embrace him, "I didn't get to thank you properly for what you did, kind of my hero..." smooth expression teasing, "Captain Redfield".

Chris smiled resting a durable hand behind his head, "I'll always be here..."

Leon joked "you're making me blush".

Chris matched his stare, "those…flames, whatever they were, put things...in perspective" he acknowledged.

Leon raised his head, "what did you see?" Any talks involving them would ignite his senses.

Chris brushed his hair and checked the white strands, "you...and Claire", answering in good conscience, dark eyes sparkling.

Leon was reflecting "really?"

Chris bumped his head, "really" worn-out.

Leon knew he was the one keeping him up at night, "I'll be all right", kissing his friends cheek for stress, "so quit worrying…gramps".

Chris was amazed by the unexpected kiss, inching closer when he felt something strike him on the skull. It was an acorn. Chris stared up into the tree. It had hurt and the trajectory of the projectile was few and far between. Letting Leon go, "get your ass back inside it's getting chilly, I'll be over tomorrow".

Leon picked up the bag as Chris got in the car. He gunned the engine and gestured to the door. The blonde knew he wouldn't drive away until he was inside the apartment. Somehow, he was glued to the same spot. A gush of wind jetted past shuddering the tree, leaves plummeting. Leon moved closer to review the branches. Chris was analysing, could have sworn there was hardly any wind. Just like that the fragrance in the air was gone, leaving him in the grips of nostalgia.

Chris peered out of the window. "Don't make me stay the night to put your sorry ass to bed" the earnest look specified he wasn't jesting.

Leon kidded "maybe I'd like that Chris, you and me in bed", suggestive.

Chris sulked. "Just go you jerk" he was bushed and the scoundrel in front was the culprit.

Leon made his way towards the lawn, gazing back as he unlocked the door stepping inside. Chris stroked his cheek, the kiss had left his skin burning, prompting he needed a shave, examining the tree when Leon yelled.

"Hey Chris…don't shave…I like the stubble" not waiting for an answer.

Chris was shaken, "we're having that talk…you better be ready!" He raced the car and mumbled "just a fluke…" keeping his thinking rational, observing the tree in the car-view mirror suspiciously.

Dante gaped in horror at the one responsible for the rush of air…Vergil was here and slumped his body on the roofs, looking rather fashionable in blue jeans, boots and a black military style coat. The high collars emphasizing his long neck and the threatening regard of the sub-zero prince. The frightened red devil shrunk, Nero still snoozing inside his arms, oblivious to who had just arrived. Vergil's eyes spoke of the trouble they were in. Mato was gratefully still sheathed as he clamped his blade firmly.

"Brother...did I not make it clear that you were not to approach the human" encircling with imposing strides. "He needs time to make the decision without your...interference" retelling civilly.

Dante gulped, the low tone, the easy gaze was betraying the anger that was swelling within his twin.

Vergil established, "you have disobeyed me" outlining Mato's body. "I have been rather lenient of late", expressive lips tightening.

Dante went down on his laps, "I...got drunk Verge" using his get-out-of-jail free card.

Nero upraised his head, "I feel sick" notifying Dante of the likelihood of another barf coming on.

Vergil scorned, "care to explain what you have done to the younger?"

Dante squeezed Nero, "kids also drunk" he offered in an appeasing voice. "He's twenty so it's legit" trying to evade bonus penalties.

Mato whispered to Vergil and Dante knew punishment was being designed by the both of them. Usually Vergil would be swayed by the opinion of the blade, making cold sweat break out.

He grovelled, "Mato...we're on good terms remember, let bygone's be bygones".

Yamato pinched Dante's butt with a strategic cut, even when sheathed. The hunter huffed and stared, lifting so the owner could see the cut on his bare buttocks.

"Your blade just swiped my ass…" getting raucous, being syrupy wasn't fucking working.

Vergil ignored, silently discussing the right sentence to equal his crimes.

"The chair" he delivered.

Dante hoisted, speechless, Nero covered his mouth, these sudden movements were sending tremors inside his belly.

"You wouldn't dare Verge...you, you love me" petrified.

Vergil held his chin, "it is for the greater good, for the one I love, has to be...taught".

Nero dropped to his legs, realising his guardian was here and detecting Dante's growing distress. He wobbled towards the blue devil and pasted himself to his chest, "it's my fault please don't punish".

Vergil sniffed the hybrid that smelled just as bad as his brother. Trying to remove him but the young devil clung tightly, coiling his bringer.

"I will take Dante's punishment" the interference. The youth met Vergil's glower and courageously kissed his lips.

"We won't do it again, we love you so much…it hurts…my heart aches…dull pain", specifying to his chest, speech slurred.

"You make my heart…pain", the cry.

The indifferent blue devil scrubbed his lips, "you are drunk" the discharge.

Dante seized his chest at Nero's words, incapacitated. The kid was taking the fall for him. He strode over and wrapped him defensively, "no Verge, it was me. I take responsibility. I missed Blondie...wanted to see if he was OK...sorry bro" sorrowful blues affirming their identical depths of despair.

The red devil slipped his arm about Vergil and enfolded him, catching Nero. Vergil was not enthused. Dante moved into kiss his lips and he prevented. One rancid beer and pizza kiss was more than he could endure, both odours he disliked.

Nero was quietly observing him, "I'm sorry" the waterworks ensued.

Vergil ridiculed, "it will not work this time...the both of you will receive equivalent consequence in the morning, for I have had a long day".

They watched as a door unlocked. Leon ran outside, eyes ached in misery. The sights made Vergil exhale, bearing the same gaze as the two in front. Leon could feel their presence, the lone wings gleaming as he raced to the tree in search.

"Dante" he yearned.

The man he had heartrendingly called watched him from afar, saddened. The teen felt it too. Leon whirled, clutching Ivory inside his hand. The demonic arm was frantic for him, detecting he was close. Yelling to his master to come and amass them.

Leon roared, "Nero...Vergil I know your here too, come out damn it".

He looked so out of place on that lonely road. Why was it they felt fragmented without one another? Nero and Dante were waiting for Vergil's consent which never came. He started to walk away. Leon and Ivory continued to plea, searching, pacing not wanting to be left behind. There was something captivating in the air. The world was iridescent with their spirit. A soft drizzle of rain interfered. Dante turned away trailing Vergil. Nero stood still and watched Leon in pain, eyes stinging but he too followed his brother's. Vergil was leading them away. They couldn't defy the one they belonged to.

Leon contemplated the darkened sky as it started to weep. Ivory advising him to pursue but how could he follow the gust? Their powers were beyond him. He stepped off the road as a car rushed past. Ivory was partaking in his heartache as they waited in the rain, growing troubled for the frail human, urging him to return to shelter but he couldn't understand, aggrieved by his silent suffering. Leon slid the gun under his top, out of the volley, Ivory was quieted by his warmness and so was he. They waited together on the pavement knowing no one was coming. Leon was holding his white strands, empty and weary, when Ivory pronounced…"Leon".

They were sobering up, marching towards the security of their own home. Vergil didn't say a single word to the two making them feel troubled. Falling in his eyes was the worst kind of feeling. "He'll come around kid" Dante guaranteed, searching for Giselle, he didn't want her to come out now. Vergil was in a seriously bad mood

By the time they made it back it was almost 2 a.m. Dante headed upstairs and the silent youth accompanied him. The serious elder wouldn't look at the two, inspecting the black bag for the salvaged weapons. Dante bought in a towel and started to dry the kids hair who was looking downhearted, hugging him, warming his cool skin.

"It'll be alright, he can't stay mad for long" cheering. Nero was quiet.

Dante dragged him into bed, "good night's sleep cures all", falling face first on the pillows and patting his side, body still rainy.

The adolescence lay down beside him, gazing at the ceiling. The kid was heavy-eyed and needed sleep, nurturing his head on his outspread arm, covering him under the blankets.

"We had fun right and got to see Blondie", positive vibe.

Nero slipped into his waiting chest, "we hurt him old man...we shouldn't have...gone".

Dante exhaled, he was trying to forget the moment Blondie had come out with Ivory. He wished he hadn't…static in disappointment.

Nero barred his eyes, "but I had fun, it was my first time on the rides and you don't need to worry…Leon will join us".

Dante rested over him, gladdened, "how can you be so sure?" There was a gamble Blondie would let the mark fade and once that transpired he would be out of their lives. After today, he was sure they would lose him.

Nero's sleep driven eyes undid, holding his face lovingly, "I…already saw it" he uttered in soft breathes, nodding eyes concluding as he kissed the hunters lips whose hands entwined his, pinning them above his head. He didn't stop kissing the adolescence until he lay still beneath him, hands still gripping strongly but the younger's lips and tongues were inactive.

Dante surged Nero into his body, "I had fun too…" tensing when he remembered he had left the photograph downstairs.

He smoothly let go and walked out of the room, gazing down from the banister. Vergil was holding the picture, fingers finding Eva's face. Dante scratched the wood and flew down…snatching it from his brother's outstretched hand. Mato was appeasing his master as he stood motionless, resting the katana on the desk.

Dante was slipping it quickly into the bag when Vergil crouched and held, "there is no need to hide this...our family".

The red devil's hands weakened as he took the photograph and situated it on the desk.

"It belongs here" correcting.

The hunter stood, he had missed his brother's scent all day. "I'm sorry for being a...fuck-up. I know I make things difficult for you" dispirited.

Vergil turned around and slid off his jacket, gliding it around his shoulders and snatching him into his arms.

"Fuck…up", he admitted all over again.

Vergil gauged, "is this your way of evading penalty?"

Dante lowered, "I hurt…you", he admonished peering at the photo, fingers stretching out and gliding over Mato with gratitude and indebtedness.

"It hurts me…to see you…" wounded.

Vergil nudged his nose playful it didn't work so he kissed his mouth hungrily, openly initiating the somatic communication. Dante re-joined, taking his time to revel in their zealous kiss, hands irregular over his face and mane, satisfying their unappeasable quota, lips divided, gyrating impatiently with desire, mood swiftly vivacious.

"Verge…about round 2…" he impelled munching his chin.

"Drunk sex is the best…you should try it" he rumbled sucking his nape, adorning a scandalous hickey. A spontaneous impulse to leave his body perforated enthralled him.

"Sometimes I think…it would be better if I just…just eat you" crunching.

Vergil promptly nipped his muzzle making him whimper in pain.

"Brother, I advise you start conducting yourself better if you desire me in…bed" the newest threat.

Dante was disturbed by the horrifying prospect of Vergil using sex against him, his ace card.

"Am willing to become a…nun for you", brazenly unbuttoning his dusky shirt but falling onto him, unbalanced.

The elders befitting frame held unassailable quietude he could never escape. Vergil steadied, bracing him into his arms. He hadn't overlooked his nightly obligations, seating on the leather sofa, correcting his legs as his twin curled into a foetal position, head reclining on his lap, both watching their parents who were smiling at them. Vergil rested over, encompassing, the way he had inside his mother's womb, "sleep", the hypnotic say.

Dante identified his mirror image, Vergil's hands rewarming his skin beneath the jacket. The protections he needed at night remained within these reflective traces, these feelings ran unending. There was no place like his brothers arms, body gratified, words emanating. "You" he recited, powerless, to stay afloat on cloud nine. God was unstinting for breathing his soul to occupy a duplicate frame with the man that was his everything. A low prayer was sung to his creator.

"I'd…die…without…" benumbed.

Understandably, Nero had awakened finding Dante absent, making his sluggish way down the staircases with the quilt dragging behind him, half-asleep. Vergil reviewed him as he advanced, bending to deliver a lethal head-butt that left him on the threshold of a blackout. The hybrid had tried to "greet" him but had failed in his befuddled state. The bruised elder rubbed the child's head sympathetically as he grimaced in pain, a bump enlarging, lowering the teens head to kiss his lips, leaving him stupidly grinning. The fledgling sandwiched snugly between his legs, raising them over his shoulders much to Vergil's wonder, crown snuggled amid his restful thighs. The drowsy adolescence couldn't have asked for a superior crib.

Vergil collected his hair, "how was your day…?"

Low voice engaging, his deliberate absenteeism had allowed his brother and Nero the indispensable time to link. Demonic blood was celebrated for its ersatz potency, for it was ones sentiments that truly made the connection indestructible.

The youth ogled with love, "best day of my life, I liked the beach but Leon wasn't there", pecking Dante's mouth.

Vergil stroked his cheek, "rest" coercing.

Both of his hands by the same token were deeply occupied by the two that desired their endless affections.

Nero held his busy fingers to kiss his palm, interlinking their digits and using them as his headrest.

"Am not afraid of roosters b-because they remind me of…y-you", blushing madly.

Vergil was rendered thunderstruck. The hybrid had just equalled him to an ordinary fowl. Before he could strike back, the novel devil was snoring. He complained.

"Mato, this one really is…strange…" warmly adjusting the slumbering child's head with rare fondness.

Yamato murmured melodiously. Pleased by the singular spectacle.

A soft knock and he knew who it was. "Enter" he consented.

Giselle arrived, sopping, having lost track of them when they took flight. Walking in timidly to find the one she loved. His eyes watched her intently as she stood appealingly before him, cured of all her ugly ailments by the generous cross-breed that had joined their clan. Vergil had shattered her repeatedly but she would only allow herself to be entirely crushed by him, no other. The rightful ruler of hell had it not been for his twin. Mato was effervescent as Vergil questioned. This creature had tracked him for years. Akira's persistence had conveyed the crucial message…that demons can also love, addressing the little sprite.

"You may stay...only on the understanding you will guard these doors with your life".

Giselle hunched, he was lavish in his stance to allow her to halt, she too had found a lasting home. Vergil bled his finger and offered it to her. He had watched Dante, in secret, the moment he had bonded with this demon. She drifted through the air and sucked his blood, seating near his feet obediently. The troubled blue devil laid his crown to recline. "Sparda", he explored and Mato retorted in Aramaic. Vergil knew where to instigate his pursuit of the man that had hadn't quite left their lives.


	28. The Invitation

"2 Months Later"

Chris crammed the growing files with a look of setback. Tiresome catch-up for the week he had taken off. The holiday he had badly needed had come in the form of looking after Leon and now Claire who was back in town having found out about the prison affair. A fresh brew of great smelling coffee was cited on a spot of desk still detectable by thoughtful hands. Jill selected the tabloid trimmings which Chris had been amassing of late, reading the headlines with an increasing smile.

Article 1 - "I saw the devil".

Nude, silver haired man raids a terrified rancher's home. When confronted with the barrel of a shotgun he whirls into a black devil.

"Armageddon is coming" the devil warned before thieving a pie.

Article 2 – "Demon Party"

Club owner denies accusations of fraud after insurance company snub his outrageous claims that demons destroyed his establishment. Court has ordered him to seek professional help but an online petition has been launched by clubbers in his defence, claiming that they too had witnessed the supernatural bash.

"It's a government conspiracy, they don't want people to know demons exist", remarked one anonymous party goer.

The white haired, devil man, has gained a cult following is said to have been spotted in the crowd. Reports have yet to corroborate these claims.

Chris tried to seize the trimmings but Jill was faster, cheekily indicating to the first editorial. "Funny" he griped, rectifying the documentations on his less interesting cases which he had been doggedly circumventing.

Jill returned the clippings, "I reserved a table for tomorrow, your treat, and I have Leon's exam results. I took a peep", naughty.

Chris seized the beverage. He had assisted Leon's prep, expecting success. That jerk had been a taxing apprentice. Alertness insistently divided between him and the eccentric gun he had taken a fanatical liking to. Every sitting involved the "Gun Ceremony", an OCD display of attentive positioning as if the firearm was picking its seating allocation. He wanted to forget the time he had walked in to find him holding an apple and asking the firearm what it was called, pretending nothing happened but since that day he had noted more and more how Leon would be watching the revolver as if they were having some bizarre mute dialogue. Chris was holding off referring him to see a psychologist specialising in PTSD, considering the fact that he may have to book an appointment for himself. The prison had left its lingering scuffmarks.

Chris had become increasingly committed to discerning the origins of the twins after their records had been deleted from their central databank. The more he tried to pull away from this fact, the more analytical his mind had become. He wanted to get to the bottom of the matter, henceforward, his current neglected grind, withdrawing his disruptive trail of thoughts towards Jill as she savoured her coffee. Just from the air around her he knew Leon had passed the examinations, meaning his suspended application to their department would be fast-tracked. He was gifted beyond doubt and everyone had taken notice that he was the lone survivor of the Prison Incident, receiving open solicitations from other organizations that were looking to recruit fresh and committed officers like him. Chris doubted he would change his mind about working for S.T.A.R.S. His father had his heart set on it. This is where his friend would choose to toil.

Jill tapped her cup, "you checked...didn't you" dissatisfied, wanting to be the one to supply the good news.

Chris combined a few folders, "I knew he would but you're even more excited than me" ribbing.

She absorbed her coffee, "I...have questions about...them" not hiding her viewpoint.

"Those flames were nothing short of a...miracle" no longer a sceptic of the unknown.

Just like her partner, she too had become involved. It was her who had discovered their records had been removed. That wasn't the only strange part. The prison case and final reports had been made confidential. Even to them. Somebody in the task force was taking great steps to inter any available data.

"I tried to access the reports offline and they were encoded. It doesn't feel right Chris" murmured low.

Chris leaned frontward, impatient, "forget it Jill. We already locked horns with Wesker and he won't budge, no point evaluating what we can't change", loosening his red tie, white shirt and navy pants become rigid, separated.

Leon had fled any talks about the prison. Dodging the conversation or ignoring it subtly. The files he had made on the three men, including their pictures, had vanished. Someone had taken them, a member of his own team. He didn't want to contemplate a spy operating in their midst but figuring out a motive had been even tougher. The three were presumed dead and included in the body count. Statistics were all that mattered to media. No one cared for the casualties' or their identities, except their families. Justice was tragic, retribution crooked. The media publicity had moved on and they were left to pick up the missing pieces. Chris's deterred stare coasted over Jill, observing how gorgeous she looked in a smart plum coloured dress. Those infernos had left her radiant. She got a call at her desk and was about to turn when he prevented.

"I will pick you up for 7" pulling her closer.

Jill's thumb discreetly chaffed his stubble, "don't be late, oh and you missed a call from Claire".

Chris recoiled, Claire had been insistent about meeting up after work. It was either going to be shopping or something much, much, worse.

"I really hope it's not what I think it is", letting her go.

Jill made a pert zippy motion, turning to take the call at her desk. They were incredibly short staffed but things were going back to their gradual pace, shifting through the files when three more landed insensitively. Wesker was pleased, dressed unusually in a grey suit and white shirt, looking like a shady FBI negotiator. All he was missing was a pair of dark shades, the head-set snug in one ear. He had been in around-the-clock consultations having taken full charge of the director's fury.

"I want these reports and your comments on my desk, today, Chriiiss".

The dark haired hunk gratefully sipped his coffee to avoid whacking the keyboard across Wesker's haughty face. Paperwork was the bane of his existence, "will do" disguising his frustration.

Wesker wasn't thru, "Kennedy passed the written exams" eyeing the newspaper trimmings, "his tests scores were notable".

"I will personally see to HR that his paperwork is expedited, hum?"

Chris was delaying a response, "thanks...but I've done it" making transitory eye contact.

Wesker's earphone blinked blue. Chris was hoping he would take the call and leave him alone but it was wishful thinking, lately his boss had been using every opening to get him chatting, particularly if the dialogue involved Leon.

Wesker scanned Jill, "I know the two of you are...still upset about the reports being made confidential but you should know I have no regulation over the bureaucracy that blights this branch", pausing for emphasis. 

"We are still answerable to the government. They want nothing more but to put…six feet under the jail blunder and resulting losses our department suffered as a rather embarrassing let-down".

Chris was ticked off by his monotonous stance. Good men had lost their lives and they had been brushed under the carpet and discounted. 

"As I said before Wesker, you chose to dismiss mine and Jill's involvement so what's the point in weighing the case now?"

Wesker pressed his tense shoulder. Chris didn't know what to make of it. Consoling or aggravating, he couldn't decide. The rational part of him wanted to forget the entire case but he felt a strong loathing for the way the matter had been internally controlled and settled. Jill was watching him with appeasing eyes, preventing a stand-off.

"The counterfeit cheques case and subsequent murder of the Italian Attorney are on your desk" ending the pointless discussion by changing the subject altogether.

Wesker's critical eyes gauged him, "it really is time to move on...am sure you agree we all have our...priorities". Interrupted again, this time he took the call. "What is it?"

A wheezing voice rung, "Sir, we have a...situation with specimen 309".

Weskers tone hushed, "what kind of...situation?" moving away from Chris who was glad to see the back of him.

"This thing has taken Dr. Attwell captive, in exchange to see you. The description it gave…matched yours. We can't get close enough to sedate the specimen but have quarantined the area to prevent a breakout and additional contamination" rushed.

Wesker walked into the hallway towards the water cooler, taking a plastic cup and clicking the button, "kill them both" apathetic. The last thing he wanted was to make a needless visit to the underground facility. Deceitfulness didn't always hold its charms.

The caller stumbled, "we have directives from Azazel not to kill this one, until he gets back. The demon possesses metamorphosis capabilities which are unusual and the doctor is on a crucial breakthrough with DNA assimilation".

"The results could be...could be, prodigious", materialistic.

Wesker started to water the dry plant located right next to its life-force. The soil so parched the liquid took a few seconds to submerge, floating on top, thinking things over.

"Where is Azazel?" Flicking the plastic cup, the infuriating brat had been markedly deceptive. He had only seen him once during their last capture.

The man's voice rang high pitched, "Azazel, can't be located, even with our tracker, seems he is...in the other realm. The demon is willing to negotiate the doctor's life and provide strategic information on other sprite's and their whereabouts…only if you meet it, in person".

Wesker was interested. The demon had figured out their failings and he had heard about the rather valiant efforts to inhibit blood-work, going as far as a self-induced famine, declining to eat human flesh, deliberately turning into dust. It was rare to come across a demon that understood human greed to such a full degree. Their last meeting had been forgettable but now his curiosity was revived. A little visit couldn't hurt?

"I will be there in an hour, manage it appropriately until I arrive" ending the call and directing his attention towards Chris.

Umbrella had requested a close watch over the two and he was monitoring their daily activities. Phones, mobiles, laptops all rigged, for any hint that they were trying to uncover secrets that could lead to Umbrellas involvement. So far they were being good and he had already deleted the three prisoner records from most of their catalogues not that they held any vital information, evidently phoney characters. The juvenile didn't have much of a past to begin with. Undoubtedly eager about adding Kennedy under his radar, he shared a feature with the three and could be the vital stepping stone to determining their whereabouts.

What he planned to do with them? Well, only further tests could corroborate the possibility that these men were holding far more prised blood inside their veins than the hundreds of demons they had incarcerated, dismembered and ultimately incinerated in the slaughterhouse that was the Umbrella Facility. The demon bidding him was seated on death row, meeting it one final time wouldn't be to his disadvantage, bearing in mind, it was the last to encounter the trio. Wesker discharged himself from the labours of dull office duties for the extravagant luxury of private affairs and imminent narcissistic evolution. Parting a glance at Chris as he retrieved his jacket and headed out, reporting to no one.

Chris skimmed the clock on the wall and caught Jill smiling to herself. Cheeks tinting, he had never seen such a girly expression on her face, making him interested. In an attempt to take a break from his monitor he swept over to her side making her slam the drawers shut. Jill locked speedily, flipping her hair which was open for a change.

"Don't even think about it Chris, I already saw the size of your pending files".

Chris smiled vibrantly, she was deterring his attention, "actually, I wanted to know what you're hiding in that drawer Jill" applying a headfirst investigation tactic.

Jill gazed, "I don't think you want to know" her frank approach.

Chris played along, testing the drawer…slanting over her. Jill was wearing perfume, the scent of Oriental lilies, relaxing her head on his chest, carefree. Chris wasn't the only one who had noticed the desire to be closer. Those strange fires had exposed a new world of warmth. Their bodies had awakened from the inertia of this world, inner beings being pulled towards a place of origin that held the world's ultimate truths. A core of other-worldliness had unchained, nothing material could ever satiate. It had been the reason she had done what she did, reserved the photographs and files from her partner's desk. The need to see their images was unshakable. Jill knew this out of character conduct was mutual. The clippings were Chris's way of keeping his feelings in check and this was her way. They were equivalent in their thoughts and actions...bound.

Vergil's hair was still rooted in her hands, the need to see Leon was unfailing. They would eat together every evening. Meals cooked in advance to prevent the male combo from burning down the kitchen or surviving solely on greasy takeout. Jill's fingers would inevitably slide into Leon's mane when he sat next to her, modest, not once had he questioned her actions. Those cloudy eyes could speak her thoughts. They had united in that murky desolate place and these emotions could never be over and done. Leon's hair was an undeviating link, the physical proof of what they had beheld and could never accurately grasp.

Chris's fingers ran through her curls. The new trainees were receiving their inductions which they were exempted to attend, giving them a rare chance to be alone. Jill knew Chris was distracting her to get to the drawers knowing exactly where she kept the key. She was one step ahead, dragging his silky tie, angling into his lips making him feel awkward and lose his way.

Jill laughed sympathetically "nice try, but I can read your every move".

Chris adjusted his tie and took the occasion to kiss her cheek, "if we survive Claire's attack come over for dinner tomorrow" with that he unenthusiastically heading back to his nightmarish desk where his mobile was buzzing.

"Speak of the devil" he took the call.

Claire's excited voice rung, "Chris we're heading for central plaza, usual coffee spot".

He replied wearily, "as long as it's coffee I'll be there".

Claire emitted, "don't worry we intend to be on our best behaviour, see you there".

Head down he enforced a few more hours of mundane drudgery, when he glanced at the clock he couldn't believe his eyes, he was running late. Time was something he used to keep to. Rushing around and snatching his things, double checking his keys, hugging Jill on the way out.

"Don't stay till late they don't pay us for overtime" the reminder.

Jill shook her head, "looks who's talking" charmed.

Chris left her in charge of the office and the newbies as they flocked out of the meeting rooms. She would return the files...eventually. For now they were in her proficient hands. Jill couldn't shake the feeling they were intended to meet again.

The drive to the shopping centre was hurried, parking up on the only vacant spot located all the way on the 5th level. He climbed into a slow-moving lift. Reviewing the map of the labyrinth mall as it stopped on every floor, buyers with prodding bags, bustling in and out, too indolent to exercise their legs on the staircases. Chris frequently avoided these congested settings, his job was stressful enough and he couldn't remember the last time he had come bargain hunting. He got out hastily on the lower ground and navigated using the confusing numbers to find the bustling café.

Leon and Claire were seated downstairs having chosen a cushy leather sofa to occupy. The sight of them made his heart beat blithely…it was these irregular beats that actually tallied. Claire was dressed in stonewashed jeans, grey and white patterned mid riff t-shirt and a black leather jacket, hair in a model tress. Leon was clad in a navy shirt, dusky jeans and a brown leather jacket, the coloured hair making him look like a rocker, the tattoo improving the getup. Chris collapsed on the opposite lounger looking less fashionable in his labour apparel. Taking Leon's cream filled cappuccino and swallowing it positively.

Claire smacked his hand reproachfully, "yours is coming greedy".

The shifty blonde lowered his head over her shoulder, playing the victim card, "since you've been gone, the big guy here does nothing but torment me", sassy smile slithering knowing he had some cheek to say that.

Chris kicked his boot lazily, "you thankless jerk, been over every day to look after your scrawny ass" savouring the bitter taste of the liquid refreshment.

Claire was inspecting Leon's tattoo, "I'm so getting this!"

Chris leaned over the low table and dragged her pigtail, "no you're not, remember where you're employed".

Leon was evidently bad inspiration.

Claire pulled her brother's cheek rebelliously, "you never stopped Leon and it's only fair you treat us the same, equal rights".

The one in question sensibly intervened, "Claire, hate to say it but the big guy is right, you and tattoos shouldn't mix".

Claire was surprised "you two are ganging up on me, can't believe it. Leon you were supposed to have my back", weighing his skin energetically. "I was thinking of getting the samurai sword in the middle but the pistols on each wing", creative. Chris and Leon gawked at her.

"What! She took a spoonful of carrot cake and chewed.

Chris was eyeing his neck, he hadn't noticed the weapons before and they looked remarkably like the ones he had seen in prison...unbelieving.

Yamato, Ebony and Ivory had taken precedence this sunrise, foretelling the waiting period for this mortal had come to a close.

Leon stood, "gotta go" departing towards the privacy of the gents toilets.

Chris was about to follow when Claire gripped his elbow, "he passed, Jill told me" thrilled.

Chris sat, rolling his sleeves, "yeah, I put in his paperwork to HR but he doesn't know".

Claire cleaned the cream from his lips with a tissue, "when he gets back we're going straight to karaoke…to celebrate".

Chris whitened "where!" Disturbed, it was worse than he thought "no way, is that the gift?"

Claire beamed, "oh, we're going alright, I already gave him the wristwatch which was the present".

Leon staggered back looking awfully content.

Claire hugged him before he could sit down. "You did it...I knew you would smarty-pants".

The vacant blonde stared at Chris for assistance as he finished off his coffee, "you passed" he stated dryly not mentioning the agony that waited. Attitude vinegary, necessitating one more cup of caffeine. The plump waitress carried over and whacked it on the table. Admiring Leon and giving Claire a malicious look over. The said mademoiselle sat down to shovel more cake.

"Let's finish quickly I booked us a room for 6" annihilating the crumbs.

Chris refused to budge, "why can't we just watch a movie" grouchy.

Claire ate the icing, "I already funded and I want to go" her lethal expression meant business.

Leon elbowed him, still ignorant, "go where"?

Chris murmured, "Hell!"

Two hours later he was seated in a sinisterly lit room with flower coded wall coverings, deluxe settee, and plasma TV for their "ultra-comfort". Leon and Claire were singing an out of tune melody about, what else, love and hurt. He flicked his tie over his shoulder and downed. It was the weekend but he couldn't afford to get downright drunk like the two in front since he had to drive them home. They took of their leather jackets, swung, tossed and took a bumbling bow, applauding noisily for their dual labours.

"Please stop" he wished.

This was not entertaining and they had become passionate as soon as the drinks started. It was already passed 9 and he was starving, dampening his mood further.

Leon spoke into the mic, "Captain Redfield...you're up next to perform a solo" impersonating Elvis.

Chris discounted his solicitation, "I'll pass thanks".

His sister was skimming through the song listing to find another starry-eyed number when she noted the empty glasses. "We're out of drinks" she crooned and opened the stuffy doors. "I shall go and get somebody. My gullet is dry. Kennedy you're on duty" mimicking Chris.

Leon floated over and sat down beside him as he held his head, undoing his tie with grim trouble in an attempt to try it out, slipping it over his head and around his temple where it got stuck.

"Never learned...how to do this right" the plastered explanation.

Chris slackened and looped his neck. Lifting his collars to do it up right when the blonde asked an unusual question, "you think I'm...gay, Chris?"

Leon's stoned heart-to-heart was starting. He always had the best things to say when misspent.

"No, judging from your brutal appetite for the ladies and past flings, I'd estimate your straight" tying a knot and slipping the collars down.

Leon studied the tie, "so…if a guy jerked me off and I got off on it and get hard-on thinking about him, does it make me a qualified gay?"

"I was checking Claire out though" unswerving.

Chris was perplexed, "you got jerked off by a guy? What do you mean checking Claire out?" Older brother protectiveness prompted.

Leon propped closer, eyes in a dilemma, "we were playing a game...he, he…knotted my wrists, with medical tape, that deceitful dog licked my nipples…mph".

Chris roofed his mouth. The woozy talk wasn't humorous…in fact he felt rage thinking about the person who could have done that. "Let me guess...that man you were chummy with" annoyed.

Leon nod, heavy-eyed, liquor wisps heating his hand which he detached, "I was...high on his blood but why does he still come in my dreams"?

"They all...do" visibly exasperated.

"Pink petals, that same flower..." barring his eyes to recall every detail "and I get that same ache", dismayed. "That crazy bastard...is in love with his brother, Vergil, but so is Nero, did you meet Nero..." while grooming the tips of his jet black hair.

Chris couldn't keep up and managed to shake his head, guessing this was the youngster's name, brows denting.

Leon grinned, "I want you to meet them...especially Nero. He was the one who...healed us with those fires and sexually assaulted me...thinking I was Vergil" scowling.

"He didn't mean to…I think" disorganized.

Chris sat visibly depressed. This was not the conversation he had in mind. "I think that's enough from you" he couldn't take any more accounts of Leon's exploitation by their hands, even if it was illogical and probable baloney. It better be…angry.

The blonde recalled "Dante, he said you had your eyes on me...do you" incoherent muffling.

Chris's annoyance flared, "don't you mean David?"

Leon had the fearlessness to chuckle, "I lied...sorry, it's just they were really devils and I didn't want you to think I was going crazy".

Chris knew this was just spilt nonsense…"devils" was definitely a better description.

Leon asked bluntly, "do you have the hot's for me...coz I really like you Chris. Not sure what I'm feeling right now but honestly…I like you". Faces inches apart, "what you do for me, no other will but…I also like that asshole. He makes me feel like I can fly but you…you, will always be…my gravity", deep.

Chris reinforced, "usually the stories are funnier" he criticised.

Leon blinked lazily, his warm breathes were wafting directly above his lips. They were seated too close. Chris tried to ease back but the boozy blonde pushed closer, touching noses, staring at his mouth fixedly.

"He told me...he never kissed anyone else but his brother, so how about it big guy, I give you my first mannish kiss" stressing into his jaws and without warning pressing into his lips. "Guess that makes me Bi huh!" The final declaration as he pierced his sealed lips with his wet and indiscreet tongue.

Chris sat dumbfounded by what was currently occasioning…a gay kiss.

Claire chose this exact moment to walk through the doors, dropping the beer glasses. Luckily the floor was carpeted and the damage was minimal.

Chris was looking into his sister's wide eyes of bolt from the blue. "I can explain!" He blurts gripping Leon who had climbed onto his lap during their…passionate moment.

The blonde flapped his tie, "what do you think Claire...better or worse" insensible. The words echoed like marriage vows.

Claire's hand went to her mouth as she started to weep. New ankle boots ruined, soaking in fallen beer. It couldn't get any worse.

Chris shoved him off, "Claire!" He stood, worried, as she progressed unevenly towards him, hands trembling.

"I'm so happy!" She bawled embracing him tightly.

"I love Jill but no one can beat Leon", she protracted her other arm towards him.

He stood to cuddle her for an imminent group hug.

"I love you guys…together" she declared proudly, markedly drunk.

"Leon will make a beautiful bride" she thought "beautiful".

Leon garbled "why can't he be the bride" comparing their muscles and height critically.

Claire wiped her nose "you're prettier, Chris would look hideous in a dress" sharp-sighted.

Chris patted his sister's head in a passive manner. He hadn't realised she was a big BL fan.

"I will wear a suit" he settled.

Claire's blessings for their relationship had come as a revelation, with any luck, she wouldn't remember their affair.

Leon clasped both of them, "I love you guys too".

Chris gives him a dirty look. The jerk who had initiated this suggestive kiss wouldn't remember their romance either. It was time to get them home. The drive back was quiet as they slumbered in the backseat. Claire was nuzzling inside Leon's arms whose head was resting on hers as padding. Chris pulled out his mobile and took a snap sending it to Jill who was doing overtime. Hand on the steering wheel, the other rubbing his lips where Leon had embedded his sentiments. The subversive and dissident kiss had found its mark. He would never forget this night, even if the two of them did, parking up to drop off the snoozing blonde. Chris got out and opened the passenger door, slapping Leon's cheek harder than needed, "out".

The blonde sulked and blinked back in a daze. Taking Claire in his arms, "we didn't finish the last song".

Chris rested Claire back, "out now" he drilled impatiently.

Leon fumbled, holding him by the abdominal to climb out. "Ivy will be worried. I have to put the gun to bed…we snuggle together".

"He used the gun to jerk me off" fondling his stubble.

"Your husband material but he is like a shit boyfriend I can't forget, a complete dick" annoyed at himself.

Chris dragged, "I really don't want to hear another word from you, just get in" maddened.

Patting his legs for the keys, he solved the doors, guiding the drunk into the bedroom, removing his boots. Leon fell backwards. Chris raised and took his tie, creasing it into his pockets.

The blonde lowered into his chest, "did I pass the test?" Worried, having forgotten he had. "If I fail now...it's over. I don't want to disappoint...you or dad" dull.

Chris halted, "you're going to be working for me, so don't expect any favours and no slacking off. You won't be getting any special treatment" fixing his boots to one side.

Leon strained his legs, "I wanted to fulfil his last wish" breathing low, eyes sealed.

Chris felt the warm tears seeping into his shirt "hey, I've always been proud of you…no matter what you did, so was he" hugging.

Leon cleared his throat, "yeah, he told me the same thing".

"I'm really happy Chris", hands clasping his shirt.

They remained this way for several minutes. Chris was waiting for Leon to let go but he had evidently fallen asleep, laying him down. A silver gun barrel was glinting beneath the pillows. Slithering the pistol out he read the title that was sublimely engrained, "Ivory". Checking the clip again, unfilled. He slipped the cannon back into place, getting a good look at the strange tattoo that seemed to have enriched in colour and profile. Something in its design had altered. He was sure of it. Chris sighed and kissed his friends head, digits exploring the mysterious snowy elements. He knew they would never vanish. They had become a part of Leon and he too had accepted this unusual adaptation, delaying above his friends lips…he curved in and kissed them between their shapely bends.

"I just gave you my first manly kiss shithead…makes us even" beaming.

Standing up he sauntered towards the windows, sliding it down and bolting it firmly. It was time to get the other one home who was going to have a lot to say in the morning. Pleased, who would have thought they would end up becoming this close? These satisfying emotions were new and entrenched. Their world had attractively changed for the better. Joy could be inestimable in a world so brutally unpredictable. These pristine ties were beginning to feel indissoluble…gazing at the one sleeping with tender attachment.

Leon was still asleep in the pitch-black apartment. Light wind gusting over his drowsy expression. A hot palm scraped his cheek, "Chris?" turning over as the bed hollowed…eyes unable to cope with the downfalls of alcohol and sleep. Chris was retrieving Ivory who was singing unfailingly…"Dante". Leon's heart raced. This perfume, could it be…eyes broadening, vision fuzzy. He couldn't see anything. Hands reaching to gasp what his heart had been thirsting. Dante's heat was stemming all around him.

"Dante…!" There was no one here, despairing hands feeling blindly for Ivory. The gun was absent.

"No", he refused to believe, tossing the bed covers and pillows in dread. Hands going behind the gaps, expectant the gun had plummeted to the floor but Ivy's whispers had concluded.

Leon stopped abruptly and sat unmoving, "bastard", clenching…furious. Glaring at the open window as his eyes adjusted to the light, one hand going to his face, "you...fucking...bastard" fighting for breath. Fingers tending to the place Ivory had been seconds earlier, it was still warm.

Dante had been here and taken back the last tie, severing it. Leon had been cast aside. He had dreamed of the three every night, the same place where they had started this journey of self-enlightenment, a dwelling of power, amity and completion. This dream would disperse with the first rays of light. Anger swelling in loss as he hurled the sheets in hurt, gripping them tightly in resentment, chest and throat heavy in uneasiness. Why did he drink tonight of all nights, watching the curtains blowing, feeling dazed. Quiet exclamations fled his lips, eyes overwhelmed. He hadn't cried that day, he was sure they would find one another…but now? He laid his head over Ivory's weakening warmth.

"You could have said goodbye...I deserved that much" crushed. Silence prevailing as he battled sleep, mind neither drifting nor aware when he felt a hand lowering to his cheek, acquainted fingers levelling his fur.

Dante shrugged "I'm sorry" tilting against the bedstead.

"First time Ivory fought with me, for you. Looks like you two hit it off...even learning demonic dialect, so cute?"

Leon was laid bare, head latent on the hunters lap. He had fallen asleep while hiding underneath the kitchen sink. Dante had humiliated him. The person who always smiled at his misery was the one he couldn't run away from? Ivory was jubilant, the cool barrel floating over his jaw, exacting his lips, dipping down his nape...brass rubbing his nipples, slanting down his spine onto his utmost penetrating parts. Ivory displayed vivid sparkles in acclaim, skimming his quivering skin. Leon's doting fingers curled the firearm as it begun its descent into his masters skin.

"Leon" Ivory called one final time in bliss.

Ebony was forever waiting for his identical to seam his side, their home was whole again as the integrated guns drifted into the essence of their laudable owner. Joint in love inside the one they worshipped and protected.

Leon stared blankly. Was he back in the prison infirmary? Eyes shutting as he felt a weighty body laying over his, skins flattened, mellifluous hair caressing his eyes. Racy breathes sighing echoes of expectancy.

"I'm sorry Blondie...I made you cry, I didn't really leave" hint of sadistic delight as disobedient hands were straggling his thighs. Stout arms coming behind his head and shoulders. "I'm sorry" the amused devil blew softly over his face, two-faced.

Leon's arms wrapped the demon that had invaded his crib and heart, nails lashing his flesh...transfixing this evanescent deception.

"Bastard" was the furious welcoming. "Am done with…your games" balancing the soreness in his voice.

"Cheat" the tired blame.

Dante alternated positions they were lying down side by side. Leon's wrists were free, not bound, so why did he feel shackled and constrained, taking in the complicated man before him. "I don't...feel..." warm hands grasped his hips, advising him to draw closer. Leon conformed, chests forced, temples inclined, legs cluttered...a complete mess. This was unreal…just another reverie…great.

The blonde ruminated in disappointment, "I hate you..." he had only slumbered in these arms once and had never forgotten.

"I'm drunk and you're not real, fucker, made me wait...months" his unsound rambling went unrequited, just like all his other withdrawn emotions that were caving in.

"Why..." impatient and delusional. He was losing himself. Hands reaching for Dante's smiling face sadly, "not real" he knew. He had always denied his feelings for the devil before him but this waiting time had taken a toll and he didn't want to concede defeat in front of the self-centred, big-headed, indulged terror that was the younger son of Sparda.

Dante tittered, "is this pillow talk officer, coz I'm interested. A drunken one night stand is my kind of kink" examining Leon's well-formed butt, humouring him. "I'm still your favourite" he jeered victoriously having seen his rival leaving the premises. He was undefeated.

Leon noticed the tattoo on his collar as it flashed, imposing. The distinctive katana belonged to Vergil, the question pressing, "did you tell him?"

It was hard to detach his feelings from theirs when they had shared them correspondingly. The selfish urges that were taught by this world…envy, jealousy, greed and spite were substituted for uncorrupted selflessness.

Dante's eyes padlocked, he actually blushed, hiding his face, "yeah...I uh...did that with him..." nuzzling shyly. "I belong to Verge now. First time in my life Blondie I feel...complete" silver eyes fulfilled as they divided and thinned over him.

Leon was worried, "Nero?"

Dante monitored his tattoo, "Verge marked him too. Can't imagine life without the kid, we love him to bit's" bringing up-to-date.

Leon asked "you're both happy?" He quizzed, despite having detected the answer.

Dante traced his collarbones with his muzzle, "very, but the kid misses you and so do I. That's when we get into misfortune with Verge. Our butts get kicked alike but the kid usually puts in an extra round" chirpy.

Leon didn't hear the words, awareness still out-of-focus...preoccupied. The mounting urge to submerse inside Dante's skin, the way Ivory had, was uncontrollable. Just the thought made him hard, his excruciating member prodding Dante's abdominal muscles. If this is just a dream was it OK to fall into the pitfalls of recklessness? He would be hypocritical if he hadn't wanted this when lucid. Leon had thought long and hard about the devil hunter that had subjugated and corrupted him. Sinning was on his mind, hand yielding to his present cravings, gliding down familiar abs, infolding his comrade's bulge, inducing the two muscles to press together inside his sweaty hand, twitching…pulsing. Edgy digits favouring Dante's heated cock. This cat and mouse game could only ever end one way.

"Let's do that...something new, you promised me", mislaid, as he fondled and rubbed.

Dante grunted, reacting, "and what would that be" shameless.

Leon smiled wryly, hair complicating his face, "it's your fault", copying the rounded head, hostile. "I want...all of you, so don't give me your bullshit pretexts" sexy and equally cool gaze dogged.

They rolled and Dante was on top, gliding dangerously low between his thighs. Raising one and osculating the inside of his flesh, making him sigh loudly, the vile leer stating his objectives. 

"Designated driver Blondie, I take this job seriously", dazzling as he slid his tongue over his delicate skin, grazing amidst his fangs. The light-hearted devil bragged "you're not getting laid", skimming his stubble to piss him off even more.

Leon boosted his knee and caught his chin, having estimated denunciation. This undomesticated devil wasn't going to let him have his way and he wasn't going to be manhandled. Striking the inside of his elbow and snatching his wrist, pinning him to the bed in an impressive arm lock.

"Learned some new techniques" he notified lying down on his back and twisting rearwards so he would obey the rules and play fair.

The hunter raised his head, extremely happy their little game hadn't been canned "you want it rough huh, fine by me".

Leon watched in terror as Dante dislocated his shoulder in one horrifying snap. Blinking to find himself neatly installed between his crotches, legs securely wrapped around a muscular abdomen. Hands pinned tightly behind his back. "Better", Dante spanked his cheek with a firm conquest smacker. The cheating scoundrel was using his special powers. Leon butted, cracking his head open but permitting his hands to slip out of Dante's commands, who was incoherently muffling in pain. Leon glided behind him and placed him in a choking hold. One leg wrapped his neck, the other walloped his torso. Right arm strained as he heaved, the mattress noising its current maltreatment.

"Give it up" he rumbled, blood dribbling from the cut above his left eye. Right mind ancient history. Dante bought out passionate rivalry.

The hunter blocked, "I guess you're the…violent drunk kind, huh" liking their scuffle.

Bolting a kip-up and taking the blonde with him, catching his goal mid-flight, rotating, incoming on the bed…back on top. He studied Leon's bleeding head, eyes misplacing their enjoyment as the blonde strands were leached in blood, smile untaken, a cautious reminder that the most resilient individual in their cluster was tough but still mortal. The reason he shouldn't be here. Leon was hostile beneath him but Dante was overruling, gradually tiring under his brute force, observing him with irritation, fury, grievance and…heart-breaking love.

"I waited every night but you...you never came" the protest.

"Ivy never stopped crying for you" torso heaving.

Dante licked the wound on his brow, scraping his eye, paying no attention to his gripes. "Verge's orders" he tormented rubbing Leon's groin with his lap, "said you had to make the decision…unaided".

A low blow was vetoed to his neither regions as he managed to block an irate knee, "you're only feeling frisky coz your drunk" he filled hurtfully, sucking his sore skin to stop the flow of blood.

Leon's injured expression textured, "get...off me" the quiet say, stagnant.

Whether he was sober, drunk or high, this link they shared was genuine…natural. These feelings were real but they never affected Dante. His intense attraction to this unattainable devil was bleakly one-sided and he knew.

"You're a bastard you know that" riled, recalling the moment he had found Dante lying lifeless in the fiery corridors, approaching death. "Bastard" whispered hopelessly. When had he fallen in love?

Dante released, "I should have let you go Blondie. It would have been the right thing to do…but y' know you will always draw yourself right back".

Curling into him, "even though you see us for what we are. What we do. The havoc...we make", opinion progressively hoarser. Kissing Leon's ear, leaving it redder and hotter, "last chance to turn back", rough hands differing as they cradled his motionless body possessively. 

"To get away" hips crushing, stimulating flagrantly.

Leon shuddered, "don't decide for me" he spurned, kissing the crook of his curving mouth and tugging fistful of snow-white angrily. "I will decide when this is over", grinding into the heavy thighs restraining him.

Dante shined as he yanked abusively, "see I was hoping you would say that", penetrating his neck with his nail.

Leon held his bleeding wound to stop the flow of blood, injured by the unexpected gesture. "I don't need it...what I feel for you is...don't you get it", unwilling to say the cheesy words aloud.

Dante ironed his mane, cradling his head, "I already know", compelling his lips to renew their kinship, "you bled for us and this is our way of saying...we will bleed for you".

The blonde watched the expensive elixir leaking within his fingers, confused.

The red devil compelled, "take it…" winking.

He was persuaded, lips pursuing the concoction, lapping the wound, taking pleasure in it. Better than any tonic. Better than any antidote. Better than this actuality…wasted.

The alluring hunter echoed into his ear, the atmosphere sung, "take it easy, too much of a good thing can be bad for you", analysing his brow to see his skin had cured.

The woozy mortal licked his lips as the room whirled between gold flickering lights, hymns, roses and spellbinding perceptiveness. He was in a state of waking consciousness. This was illusory. Kinaesthetic and somatic learning inaugurated as Dante stole him into his chest, dispensing electrifying convulsions. Every muscle in his body quivered at the touching base where their flesh connected, adrenaline-charged and extremely virile in vigour.

Dante was being gentle, "let's take it...slow babe" he controlled.

Notable arms lifting him into the folds of well-formed legs as he lost consciousness, coming to the fluctuation of a pendulum between ecstasy and mystics, divination and incubation...all contained in an intricately stirred delirium. Leon was on a pilgrimage to acquire a collective identity, holding onto unseen wings. Vergil and Nero were present. He could picture their faces, touch them on the hunter's skin, sense them in his uneven respires, overhear them in his throbs…within the frissons of his moving body. Emotions pervaded. The red devil was rousing inside of him, faces resting over, as they became one, spells of lax purrs fleeing in delight, swinging him to the basic as Dante plunged upwards, gushing, forceful…abundant. Bodies captured, enamoured flesh pulsating with rise and falls, ebb and flow...surge and heave. If someone came upon them they would find a scene of chaotic beauty. A mortal was courting a devil.

Dante's mouth surged onto his lips. Leon arrested….how he could forget what he had been told? No other could kiss these lips, intuition sadly passing over, tasting doubt. This would never be his reality, he would always wake alone. The unbelieving blonde fastened his eyes stubbornly, kissing the corner of Dante's mouth, drawing out their familiar brushes, aggravating his repressed emotions as they conflicted with an endless tide of hunger, desire and climbing despair.

The hunter kissed his lips influentially fascinating his face. Leon sloped, as a searing tongue consumed him. There was no play, no teasing…no hiding, from what had always been clear. Dante was passing on the closing message. To touch and rejoice in everything they had partaken and conquered. Pain, fear, sorrow, and now love, soul sieving an earnest substance from his eyes. Dante smeared before it could fall, a slight nudge so as to not break his hold over their mouths. Hands frenzied, sticky sweat encasing, body overfull inside the devils custodies. Crashing and burning on the way to rhapsody, bursting to kneel before tempering exaltation in search of a fluorescence deduction.

Leon broke, "Dante", holding tightly, as emerging light started to consume the person about to leave him on the brinks of an orgasm. Emotions coupled.

"I can't stay" the tender reminder.

Dante testified, "I know now, that he could never sleep...without me. I wasn't the only one...wide-awake..." shuddered.

Leon kissed his lips avidly, enduring the ache, "go", he honoured, freeing the silver threads from his reins, not wanting to keep Vergil waiting for his brother's return. Dante smiled broadly as cobalt infernos burst into sight, invasive and overshadowing. Ears drumming, in-between crests of pain and pleasure as they aligned. Leon enclosed the red devil slowly, unsure, if he would ever see him again, replicating their first embrace...deeply expressive...deeply aesthetic...deeply symbolic of what they had come to embody, a singular spirit.

"Go" breathless in faith and love.

Dante constrained and distributed a finishing plunge sending him over the thresholds of completion. "We'll be waiting" the diminishing say.

The final avowal of consecration erupted from his figure, spilling…spiralling...spellbinding, eyes tightening in climax, ascending out of breathe to unyielding and insistent tugging. Nero was clinging to one leg, sucking his thumb. The toddler that had faced the weight of hatred and unkindness on his developing heart had never looked so happy. Leon bent pensively…clasping the triumphant child and his sceneries gradually. Where was he?

"Hey you…long time, no see" expressed with visible attachment and extreme partiality.

Nero clasped his neck tightly with tiny but exuberant arms, "Mama, see...Mama" towing his silvery threads with a spirited devil arm ordained to resuscitate all the realms.

Leon upraised, "I know you do kiddo", ruffling his hair tenderly. He had fallen in love with Nero the moment they had touched.

They were standing in the square but this place was now uninhabited. A City named Fortuna had been charred away. The ashes transformed into infiltrating wilderness. Soft prairies, garlanded with mounds of exotic blooms, as far as the eyes could take. She was standing in front of him, arms prolonged for her precious child to make his way back to her. Leon went down on one knee, placing Nero slowly to the ground, freeing his hold. The child he had promised to protect was finely safe. Dante and Vergil were standing alongside. Leon smirked and erected, shoulder to shoulder with his brothers, on what had once been a dirt road. The sunny toddler gazed upon his elevated heroes when his mother whispered warmly.

"Neri", she was long-sufferingly waiting for his onset.

Leon gradually unlocked his drained eyes. Head throbbing painfully, turning over in bed which looked like it had been blustered by a tornado. The bed frame smashed, sheets twisted, pillows strewn. He tried to sit up but his lower back aggrieved, grousing in hurting, holding his head feeling faint, lifting the sheets slowly to find blood all over. "Ivy" he called, hands trembling as he tentatively treaded on the floor with cramped legs. There was no reply. The revolver was long gone.

The shaky blonde stood using the wall for backing, chest battered…a sweet rosy scent persevered. He paced towards the drawers and delved them, chucking the wooden shelves, searching for the info Michael had given him, finding his notes and memorising them. Eyes skimming the room for corporeal evidence of a prowler who pulled him back into disorder. Nothing was amiss. Heading for the toilet to clean up, he stopped before the hanging mirror, taking in his image. Skin effervescent, eyes in-between the bounds of faith, loss and madness. Body inundated with inscriptions of passionate intercourse. Leon had never felt so…buzzing. Rambling towards the showers and discontinuing, something was situated inside. A black key was attached to a key ring of a little devil.

Leon picked it up to see if was real, starting the wash to mend saneness. Warm water cleansing the dry blood incrusted to his face, hair and body, whirling inside the drain. Smile emergent as he held the key snugger. It hadn't disappeared from his grips…physical proof. They were ready to see him and so was he, the days of waiting, the endless nights…over. The gateways to heaven and hell were his to take. An invitation to decide his own path but how could he sidestep his destiny? Holding the keys to his heart he made his way out. Joints soothed, he rehabilitated into a new pair of boxers, faded blue jeans and a grey shirt. Slipping on his leather jacket and leaving the devastated room, heading downstairs to see if a hint had been left here, examining the sideboards, drawers and even the fridge. The trickster liked to test him and sure enough a yellow sticky note pilfered from his bedroom was sitting pretty inside an empty dish.

"Thanks for dessert ;)"

Leon chuckled quietly and turned it over to find a badly drawn map of his street, with misshapen arrows. He ran out, ignoring the soreness. Locking the doors in case Chris happened to drop by and come upon the violent scene in his bedroom, most likely would dispatch a rescue party and helicopter in alarm. Leon continued to walk a few blocks, checking the doodles and taking a left ending up on a vacant alley to discover his mouth watering payment. Flinging the keys in the air and catching them.

"Can't imagine you riding anything else" he accepted.

The trendy blonde was regarding a brand new Ducati 1299 Panigale S with liking. The super-bike was a vivacious red. Removing the chain lock he mounted the motorbike with composed exhilaration. He couldn't have asked for a better ride. The final piece of information was unassuming medical tape wrapped around the right handlebar. Their inside joke. He lifted the flap and unwound with care, something was printed with a black marker. Reading the words, he sat jumbled.

"That's it…!"

Analysing the bike cautiously, fingers graceful over the places Dante had improved. How would he find this residence? Leon crumpled the note and slipped it in his jeans pocket, one hand resting under his chin the other rubbing his tattoo. Paradoxes to this existence were whispering to him. Leon closed his eyes and listened to their secretive guidance, to follow by instinct, to continue his journey into the unknown. There was no departure between dreams and reality. There never had been, just his actions to unite the two. He inserted the key, inhaling the spicy gasoline, feeling the low rumble of thunder, clutching the handlebars and settling his predestination with poised deliberation.

"Devil May Cry" he declared and the bike boomed.


	29. The Reunion

Chris attuned his necktie, black tuxedo stressing his superior build, judging the mosaic of Jesus Christ and seraphs depicted on the elongated apostolic windows of yellow, blue and green design. Crafting a sprinkled rainbow on the extended aisle as the sunlight crossed the inauguration. The church was paramount with crescent shades. Profligate variety of lilies and roses were arranged in abundances for this extraordinary occasion. Claire was walking down the aisle, turning heads. Sprinkling her route with white and red petals...garbed in an iridescent gold gown, joining his side, glittering. Locking his arm and giving him a gold-leaf box.

"Don't be nervous" while patting his clammy forehead with a paper handkerchief.

Laid-back murmuring from the mob of well-wishers rose as they sat in the aligning benches, mystifyingly garbed in identical black suits and white shirts, reminiscent of a strict uniform. Single white rose concluding each man's pocket. Upon closer inspection Chris apprehended they were all men he had briefly met. The invitees were actually the late prisoners and guards of Black Gate Prison.

Akira was seated beside Robertson, lolling his head over his pets shoulder, sniffing the rose in his hand as the other scratched his scab touchily. The peculiar male glinted and progressed to, disturbingly, rimming the flower. Chris hurriedly curved his head to find his boss standing beside him, as his best man, in a custom fitting charcoal suit and stylish shades, outwardly not considered unsuitable for the event, taking the weight of securing the wedding rings and sliding them into his pockets. Self-assured and conceited words consequent.

"As your superior Chriiisss, I will take charge of these, humph".

The pastor turned, fine-tuning his white and gold robe. Thin cross dangling about his neck, catching the rays of the sun, forbearing eyes giving him compassionate encouragement.

"Don't be anxious, my son, this is your big moment" gently voiced.

The young man he had never encountered was emitting holy energy. Translucent flames were rising in arrays around his devout figure. Nero procured the black Bible as official organ music blasted out of the pipes making Chris jolt. A threadbare tattooed man was playing the prehistoric organ. The rusted pipes were discharging a hair-raising tune. All and sundry turned their heads as the wife-to-be made her splendid presence. The lanky bride was garbed in a traditional white nuptial dress, drape covering her face, clutching a bouquet of unusual purple flowers. Her movements were fluid like a supple river and Chris knew it was Jill…it had to be, until he caught the person holding the train. His partner was wearing an indistinguishable gold bridesmaid dress, looking classy. The intended came and stood opposite him, straw-coloured features peeking.

"Leon?" Chris ejaculated in bewilderment and fright.

"Why are you wearing a...dress?" Traumatized, he wasn't ready for this kind of lawful binding.

Leon peered, lifting his veil, looking dazzling with no makeup, a natural beauty. Hair weaved in pink petals, "Chris I…" likewise nervous.

The minister interceded, "let us begin the observance", jumping right to the focal question.

"If anyone has any demurrals to why this man…and man, cannot join in holy sanctimony, speak now or forever hold your peace", ruddy cheeks making him look even more saintly.

A quiet hush entered the church followed by a deafening smash as a red motorbike crashed through the window right above their heads, tires screeching as they landed on the aisle. Whirling round, rousing the rose's mid-air. The audacious entrance of the tasteful red devil was ample. Wesker sheltered Chris as he helplessly watched his bride to be speedily spanning another man's legs.

The hunter had just crashed their wedding, outfitted in a red trench coat and brown leather pants, sexy chest bare. He stole Leon's veil and they snogged insatiably. The gathering perceptibly rendered unruly. The inmates standing up to get a better view of the rogue rider, howling as a tongue kiss provoked a lurid uproar. The jailbirds clapped and whistled lusty and ill-mannered hollers for more.

Leon met Chris's overwhelmed eyes, "he's like a shit boyfriend...I can't forget…forget…forget". The words echoed through the blessed foundations, shaking them.

The bolting bride pitched the bouquet which Claire and Jill caught together in wonder.

Dante throttled the bike at full volume, "Armageddon is coming" levelling a finger straight at him before twirling the bike, saluting and making a hurried departure out of the front doors.

A different grandiose smash tailed as a titanic figure resembling a devil announced his chilling descent. The man playing the organ buckled against the instrument to create a horrifying sound to supplement the dark angels frightening entrance as he plunged onto the wooden altar. The remaining glass devastated by his shadowy annexes, shards of multi-coloured crystal plummeting. Inflamed eyes and fangs hissed at the preacher. Vergil de-triggered, standing very tall but stark-naked.

The elder affront, "is it not...that you, love me...priest?"

Elating the sapped youth on top of the podium for all to bear witness, for he was about to fall from grace.

The member of the clergy seized his abductors face. "I…I love you" he proclaimed quietly.

Vergil draped his trophy and arched a brow at Chris, "they all love me", the self-critique, darting upwards onto the roofs, gone.

Chris stood thunderstruck, not sure how to respond. A sympathetic hand landed on his shoulder. Wesker had lost his shades in the tumult, blank face unstiffening as he went down on one knee.

"This may come as a surprise Chris, but I have always had…feelings…for you".

"Marry me" dexterously opening the rings he had taken.

Chris was backing away in shock, bumping into someone's trunk. Another prominent hand wrapped his neck.

"I wouldn't do it if I were you, sweetie" tortuous tongue coiling inside his ear as the dark haired man with suspicious white teeth grinned, "how about me?"

Chris shot up horrified, "huh…!" Checking the clock, it was almost 7:00 a.m., dipping back in bed, clutching his hair, just a nightmare. He really had to stop spending time with Claire and Leon who were conceivably stimulating some of these inexplicable subconscious thoughts. Lifting the covers and heading into the spare room. Claire was fast asleep, wearing last night's outfit. Chafing his ear where he could still feel Akira's eerie tongue. The runaway bride was likely slumbering too, so he hoped.

"He really did look good in a dress" juddering his head.

Taking a long shower and heading downstairs for some coffee and morning news, collecting the papers for thought-provoking bulletins. Claire had wakened, wrapped in a corresponding robe, in a state. She came over, pulled a stall and lay down onto the counter, road kill.

"Never again" she lamented, stretching her arm and thieving his coffee.

"My head, feels like a cracked egg" the glum airing.

Chris poured another cup, "who told you to get carried away" flipping the papers, feeling no pity for his little sister.

Claire ground, "something really good happened last night but I can't remember what?"

"To do with…" she couldn't remember.

Chris grinned with relief, having dodged a fatal bullet

"I survived your singing" he kidded.

Claire crumpled, "am quitting alcohol, where's Leon?"

The stars member brightened, "probably still hung-over like you", searching if the said shithead would remember their romantic kiss and if he didn't...would he bring it up? Leon was a damn good kisser, preoccupied.

Claire's eyes enlarged, slapping the counter. "Aha, I remember" she hailed gazing at him, astounded, licking her lips in high spirits as if she had just won the sweepstakes.

Chris spilled his coffee in fright, having underestimated a woman's sharp intuitions. "I really hope not" he stifled under his breathe.

The lady fussed, "wait till mom finds out", bloodcurdling.

Leon was rocketing down the most run down part of the city. He was being pulled towards the suburbs. Graffiti infected the frazzled walls, pavements flooded by the dispossessed, the sound and sight of his expensive motorbike grabbing their attention as he rushed by. He was definitely not mixing in with his current surrounds and at this point didn't even know where he was. All he could do was keep going, making a singular stop to buy a comparable helmet. There was no way he could ride the bike without the appropriate gear. Gasoline not a concern, the tank had been considerately chock-full, taking a right to find a maze of connecting boulevards, stopping at commuter traffic as the light flashed red, definitely lost. The wandering blonde recognised this particular street since the name had stuck out the first time he had passed it.

"Cockfosters", he breathed, deciding to take a left.

Rumbling slowly and coming to a dead end. He was getting nowhere, going in loops, waiting for a signal. He recruited the brakes and decided to halt, having ridden two hours straight. Stretching his pooped back and taking off his helmet, a few passers by giving him and his suave bike an obliged look-over. Leon decided not to seek any help. Not even sure what it was he was searching for, stroking his scratched neck when he noticed an eerie sight.

A ceramic doll was seated on top of a green street sign. He couldn't tell how it had been secured there but clearly someone had left it as a gag. Her legs were hanging. Head positioned purposefully to watch the flow of rush-hour traffic, well-kept-up in a girly dress and ballerina pumps. Her dead eyes perceived him. A tingle climbing his spine, although it was cute, dolls gave him the crawls, especially in this run-down vicinity. Eyes couldn't help drift back towards the sign. Heart skipping, the puppet was gone.

Leon blinked in scepticism, "can't say I haven't been seeing things or talking to myself", empowering his mind when he felt a touch, freezing.

Something was climbing his leg and he already knew what it was. Dante's blood would make his senses and reactions sharper…being worn-out he had overlooked the aura emanating from the marionette. Unqualified humanoid cognizance was still trying to relate rationality to his unruffled world which had warped and fleshed amid the supernatural. He was a rapid connector and adapter, only reason he had made it this far, selecting to keep calm as the dolly settled itself behind his head.

The smart officer nonchalantly retrieved the keys and pretended not to notice her current position. The said creature sat down on his shoulder. He was sweltering. There was only so much his body could take as she detailed his mane making him flinch, the porcelain somewhat cool but fleshy, unnatural, tipping his head as she leered. Abnormal choppers mismatching the dimensions of her jaw and face. This was a vicious demon masquerading as a doll. He sun-bleached but fought the impulse to mislay composure. Giselle could smell Dante's blood in his veins. The foreign white strands belonged to Nero.

Shrieking, "Dante".

Leon's mouth plunged at the unexpected inaugural, "Dante!?"

This was her owner's motorbike, "Dante" she squealed hungrily.

Leon observed her, not sure if she could comprehend English, "you know where he is...Dante?"

Head swivelling to see if any passers-by were watching. Would they even notice anything odd if they saw her seated here? It was a faultless guise. Giselle unheard, seating between his legs startling him as she made a "vroom, vroom" noise duplicating the blare of the bike. He was entertained and didn't know what to make of her. Markedly childlike in her behaviour, comparable to someone he knew very well.

Leon was about to touch the dolls head when she hung in the air screeching, fading. Two people rushed past with shopping bags, failing to catch a bus which was cruelly pulling away. His escort resurfaced. This time Giselle was seated about his neck and a little too close for comfort, hands fascinating his mop vehemently. Leon tried to confiscate her but she pulled his hair hard and flashed her fangs as cautioning. He grimaced in pain but implicitly understood her intent, dropping his hands.

"Okay, lead the way" gracious.

The critter yanked his head to the right. He hadn't noticed this particular passage. Going in circles as he had already touched his last stop, leaving the bike hastily, along with his helmet, positive no one would take it. Giselle slackened her grasp and curled, nuzzling him. Fingers scrutinising the qualities of the foreign snow strands as she begun to weave his fringe.

Leon spoke low, "I get the impression you've been hanging out with..." she nudged his tresses, directing a sharp right.

Walking past neglected dumpsters and almost marching on copious sludge to be herald by a rickety neon sign.

"Devil May Cry" he hummed his reeking destination.

Giselle left. Leon patted his plaited fringe, brusquely apprehensive, left all alone with his jittery thoughts. What if the guys weren't here? What if they didn't want to see him? What the hell was he doing here anyway? Determining to linger a little longer, he took three undecided strides and paused anxiously, inspecting the bleak entries, tattoo red-hot, sanctioning his admission inside these off-limit premises. Leon was about to knock when the doors blasted open to find the hottest female he had ever seen. Her fiery red hair was tumbling past her accomplished waist. Standing at 6 ft. 5 in all her splendour and glory was Nevan, favourably equipped with a pair of designer Ray-Bans, disguising her peckish orbs.

Leon eyes fell on her feet to assess the otherworldly height. The lady was wearing a pair of killer heels, floating upwards to take in the endless pale legs. Curvaceous hips on parade. A blaze of red laced panties blinking as she lowered Dante's worn-out t-shirt with the motto, 'behind every successful man is a woman rolling her eyes'. Her D-cups were barely contained, rotund and spiky behind her transparent shirt. Leon's mouth lay gaping. She was a total knockout, her voice even more so.

"Hello there sugar" purring like the hum of his bike, his groin answering.

Words lost, mind numb, taking in her well-endowed cleavage, "I uh…" why was he here again?

The seductress bustled, "please come in", closing the doors and taking charge of the tasty mortal, seating her unsuspecting victim on a brand new lounger.

Leon was definitely entranced, unable to take his eyes away from the bewitching predator. Mesmerised by the lustful pheromones she was exuding to procure her kill. Swaying seductively towards the jukebox and playing her much-loved track, having fixed the gadget. Rage against the Machine burst forth, "sleep now in the fire" her chosen armament. The dynamic sound of palpitating guitars makes her dip her hips side to side, tresses swaying, undies flashing, boobs swinging. The boogying vamp was hypnotic, hands threading exquisitely as if she could translate each guitar tab and chord as it aired. Leon tried to sit upright to get a better angle of her ass but he was tied down by undetectable guitar strings that were churning out of Nevan's drawn-out nails.

"Don't you just love it", folding her pinched sunspecs and slipping them above her equally pilfered top.

"Crap", the viewing mortal had caught on too late. Two rubicund balls confirmed the lady in front was actually too good to be true, the second demon-ness of the day…great.

Nevan strut to seat on his lap as he urgently tried to free his hands, shaking side to side, wrapping her slim arms about his neck.

"Oh honey, struggling just makes it worse. I only want a...bite," ravening.

Lithely unbuttoning his shirt and deadening the skin around his neck for suckling by means of skimming her tongue when it was foully pinched.

Nevan scowled, "Uwah"?

Dante yanked and she was raised, "explain!" He was soaked to the skin having rushed out of his uncompleted sponge bath. Brown dishtowel covering his privates having found nothing else in the vicinity, eyes whooshing red, pissed on all accounts.

Nevan strained to talk, "nuf-fing, juf, haffing a chaf, infro-uctions" graciously correcting the hunters t-shirt having been caught red handed.

Dante glared his way, "and you, wanna add something in your defence?" Swiping his wet hair and indicating to his zipper which had been unfastened by the fast chords.

Leon sat stumped, sensing an extraordinary sense of culpability, never having anticipated this curious set-up. Was he still dreaming? Allowing for what he had been through it was possible he wasn't really here. And more over, what was there to explain exactly? Unable to account, his eyes became engrossed by the water droplets curving down Dante's…corporeal body structure. Leon managed to stand, the wires had disbanded.

"I was drugged...I think" moving closer to regard the drips directly from their sensual source.

The red devil rolled his eyes, perceptive he had been hit hard by the vamps concoctions.

"Giselle", he yelled.

The dolly appeared on the jukebox, shutting off the music. She was in big trouble.

Dante's synthetic smirk spoken for, "over here" summoning politely.

Giselle drifted over to his side, docilely, unable to meet his solid stare, squeaking in demonic tongue.

Leon watched on captivated. He felt like he had fallen down a rabbit hole and ended up in an alternative domain. Mad hatter's party came to mind, yet he felt completely at home here. Continuing to observe Dante, without interfering, never having seen him so staid. The focused attitude was kind of sexy...wondering if they had made love last night, flushing in awareness and looking away.

"Get a grip" he muffled. He was acting like a horny teenage girl, checking if he was hard, fortunately not.

Dante was passing judgment, "did you break the seal?"

The petite figurine enclosed her face dishonourably.

Nevan stamped his foot with her killer heels, disapproving of his line of attack. In an effort to hold back a womanly scream of suffering and his virility, he bit down on Leon's unsuspecting shoulder who groaned in soreness. Dante's teeth had infiltrated his leather jacket and his fangs were currently lodged deep in his already bruised flesh. He tried to shove him off. Nevan snubbed both men in the throes of pain to pick up Giselle and pacify her.

"Don't be so harsh, it's not her fault" she pecked her cheek as the doll shrilled unhappily, rubbing her eyes crying.

Dante's blood had conferred on her the highest gift of all…mortal emotions.

The enraged hunter raised his head, holding Leon stingily, "what did you bribe her with this time you evil bat?" Zipping the ill-starred blonde's pants and catching his underwear making him mumble incoherently.

Giselle was groping Nevan's breasts, touching her plane bosoms to parallel their scope, discontented with her flats.

Dante snatched her out of the evil temptresses noose, "you..." angry, "guitar...now", stepping away when he saw her smiling wickedly. She was the only weapon that could send quakes of terror in him, a methodical farmed she-wolf.

Nevan capered over, snatching the dishtowel, spinning it and spanking his rear hard enough to leave his romps stamped, her valedictory parting gift. "As you wish, master" kissing the dashing mortal who was rereading his shoulder. "Welcome to our household" dabbing her lipstick clean from his cheek. Purple whirlwinds and bats erupted from her form as he cackled.

Leon fell backwards on the recliner in revulsion, dipping them. He hated bats. They looped and distorted into black smoke, leaving a good-looking guitar. The stunned officer sat still in mutual reaction. There was only so much he could take over 24 hours and this was getting trippy and not in a good way. Dante casually inspected his butt rubbing his stinging skin, petulant, as if this was everyday incidence, retrieving the towel and reforming a knot. Seizing the wild canister and setting her disguised form on the wall along with his other collections, beholding vexed. Beowolf, Cerberus and Ifrit were luckily still fast asleep. He wasn't finished tongue-lashing Giselle.

"How many times have I warned you to stay away from that one?"

Nevan was a control freak and knew how to work her mystics to have her way.

Giselle shrilled, "Vergil" and tried to cuddle Dante who pushed her back, "do you think he cares for boobs. I never knew you were this shallow" upset. He wouldn't be letting her watch anymore shitty daytime TV.

The demonic toy had no answer, vanishing from his gasp, hurt.

The seething devil turned around, slamming Leon into the wall, "and you, why the hell did I catch you with your zipper down as soon as you walk in through the doors" condemnatory.

Leon couldn't help but snuffle his rosy hair, "she came onto me, being a Gent I can't refuse a ladies hands on approach, never figured you for the jealous type?"

Cheerful that the one he belonged to was finally paying attention to him. Effortlessly wrapping taught legs about his waist, arms equably coming around his shoulders, kneading the secreted wings. He wasn't drunk and neither was he under the effects of Dante's psychedelic lifeblood. This attractive mortal had simply fallen in love with a cheat.

Dante constrained him, both hands slipping inside his pants, lewdly stirring his hindquarters, "I'm feeling a little let-down officer considering our engagement last night" middle finger in-going, tight entrance squeezing his digit. 

"I knew you would...come", double-edged words gleefully spilt as he pushed within. Devilish beam occasioning as Leon gasped for air, "you love me" respiring "let me hear it", probing deeper. Their bodies had always been unwavering, even if their emotions were obscured.

Leon stared at his mouth. He knew how fortunate he was, only one of the three incomparable individuals who had ever discerned these lips. He would never cooperatively air his approaches for the loud troublemaker who had fascinated his heart, gasping louder, as the finger breached him from the inside. He was being toyed with, their game was unending.

"I was drunk…remember", cunningly using the devil's usual stance to flout his feelings, recuperating a little from his present affectionate bout of attack.

Dante sited his crown onto his chest, prying on his heartbeats as they hurried, "your honest when your drunk, officer. Never thought you'd…" another finger was being inserted for dual control, making his captive moan, "want this" thrusting one more.

Leon enclosed his harasser, reminiscently. These games had always just been a ploy to be closer. Although he loved them equally, Dante was the one who really concerned him. Behind the superficial coolness was someone acutely honest, unselfish and considerate…all delicate qualities. This metaphysical connection they shared didn't need words to convey their hearts exigent ties.

Dante was listening and stopped instantaneously, slipping his fingers away, feeling liability. Purified stillness washes over as they held each other dependably. The unpredicted quietness bracing as respires combined. How many people in this disenchanted world could truly say they have felt a quiet rigidity inside another…the vulnerable attachment that comes with capitulation? Leon dipped kissing the hunters lips convincingly, catching him unaware, yanking his hair, eyes incompatible.

"I missed you, you hear me you stupid bastard" devoted.

"I missed you" conceding his love.

Dante grinned and let go.

Leon thumped behind the sofa, steaming, "you ass!"

The impartial hunter seated, adjusting his tiny towel. Leon tried to hoist but he forced his head down. "Stay there, I want to surprise the kid" the reasoning.

Giselle kicked a can and sagged on the steps. She was still trying to win Vergil's heart and had been deceived by Nevan who had claimed she could transform her body. Nevan was a picture-perfect beauty and Giselle had wanted to imitate her form for Vergil who seemed to be out of her league. She had no choice but to remain in this petty costume having lost all her previous powers. Still waiting for his arrival shrewd he was with the fledgling devil. Giselle was prohibited to follow them while he was being imparted, shrieking in fright as she was caught in the grips of an afterglow.

"Got you" the teen radiated from behind the dumpster like a deadly ninja. Clad in brand new denim jeans and black hoodie, slipping off the cover.

"That's 6-3 Giselle" pulling her into his arms with his bringer, self-sufficiently.

"Best out of ten" feeling sorry for her.

The youngest devil was the only one who played games with her. Sniffing his skin…Vergil's scent lingered and she nestled him effusively. The other never allowed her this close. Nero held her and waited for Vergil to catch up who was still supervising Rebellion and Yamato who had ended up brawling. Rebel was Nero's standby weapon, as he had no other, but the arm had declined to be used by him. Demon loyalty ran deep. The blade had defied Vergil's orders causing Yamato to erupt in ferocity, a full on tussle instigated. In the end they had taken to hand-to-hand combat and Vergil hadn't held back.

The bushed teen scrubbed his closed, puffed-up eye where he had come into contact with the elder and in an intensely humiliating moment had…passed out. He was unwilling to use his fires to restore himself. His curls had by now grown past his shoulders and the old man wouldn't let him cut it having found an unflinching hair fetish. Dante wanted his mane to reach his midriff which wouldn't be impossible considering his mane grew, an inch, each time, he used his cerulean flames. More accurately, he wanted to keep the wound Vergil had supplied and show it off. Nero was exhibiting Dante's masochistic elements. Giselle whined in his arms.

Nero reviewed her face kindly, "you've been crying?"

She patted her chest and pointed to the doors, "Dante" shrieking.

The attentive youth had never seen her so miserable. Enfolding her and patting her hair with his talons. "I will tell him off Okay".

Giselle's fake eyelashes fluttered and she left, detecting the elder was near, the root of her depression and insufferable heartache.

The teen sauntered inside to find Dante reading a magazine, upside down. "Hey kid, how did the…" laughing as he took in the green and blue eyeball.

"The look suits you" appreciative.

Nero viewed, "you made Giselle cry, she told me you screamed at her".

Dante poked a finger in his earlobe and circled, "she was being ill-disciplined", flapping his hand for him to come over.

Nero sniffed his underarms, needing a wash, "your too rough on her old man she loves you the most", striding over rapidly, unable to contain his eagerness. 

"I nearly had him today, saw a drop of sweat on his forehead…made him lose his breathe", eyes pointed unable to contain his thrill, declining to reveal the latter part, being disgracefully KO'd. Seating on the floor as the additional hunter studied his eye.

"You need to put some ice on this", blustering hot breathes and slipping his hair behind his ear so it wouldn't irritate his inflated skin.

Dante licked his wound, deceitfully leaching his blood to heal it entirely. It hurt him to see the kid in pain and he was just as possessive over Nero as the one overhearing their discussion.

"So kid, did you put in another request to see our favourite law enforcement officer" jabbing the blondes head with his other hand that slapped it, grinning.

Nero's head flumped onto his groin, "he said to wait...like he always does".

Dante kissed his injured cheek lightly, "but you still ask everyday...why", sifting more blood by cutting his thumb and circling the adolescence's skin, correcting it.

Leon sneaked a look over the sofa, wanting to catch a glimpse of the youth when Dante squashed his head.

The teen was quiet, "I...don't want to go there without him...he was the first to…" warming the hunter's coldish skin using his pink flames.

Dante smirked, taking his claw and biting on his talons, "what if he never comes, how long you going to wait? Verge knows the location", talking delicately, loving fingers caressing his jaw. 

This matter was subtle and he was treading with precaution, knowing, who was buried out there and what she had borne.

Nero stared outside the doors, silent, "he will." Rolling up the sleeves of his hood, there was no need to conceal his devil arm at home.

Leon's heart pulsed at the conviction and gentleness in the youth's expression. He knew how special that place was for him and for them. It was where they had become one. Pain was binding but it was love that underwired their imperishable bond, upended.

Dante sealed Nero's eyes with his hands, "we couldn't find your birth certificate, so how about we officially make it that special day today. Let's celebrate together…with her, we have to pay our respects too", feeling the warm tears escaping the teen's eyes, allowing the substance to climb into his skin. These tears were costly and he wouldn't let them fall.

Nero whispered "that's why I want to wait Dante...so we can go there. All of us".

No one had ever celebrated his Birthday, not even Kyrie. But it was the thought of having them visit his mother's grave that was eliciting this pain and aching. It was what Nero needed the most. He couldn't do this alone. They were the sun, the wind, and the rain, in his nurturing...inseparable.

Dante hugged, orienting his head so he could kiss his lips gradually. A whisper trailed, "Happy Birthday".

Nero grinned, "where's my present, you owe me 21" wanting to be spoiled rotten.

Dante kissed his lips. 21 grazes were pressed lovingly as the youth chuckled, blushing, "cut it out old man".

The red devil released, "this one right here counts as one big present" ending with a final smooch.

Nero unlocked his eyes to find the man he had been waiting for, right in front of him.

Leon smirked, "hey...you, long time…no see" unsure on how to approach the child who never left his daydreams.

Nero looked like a completely changed soul, a youth in the heights of adolescence and the beginnings of manhood. Leon could have sworn he was taller, closing their distance. The youth's mouth opened and closed in muddle before the abounding smile prevailed. Leon had never seen it, staggered, as he was raised off the floor in excitement. The toddler he had carried had enough strength in his arms to make this world quake before him. Laughter satisfying as Nero's smiling face stared into his in amazement.

"It's just, I see you every night it…it feels weird, but this time, you're...you're really here" rapt.

Leon allied, "I know the feeling".

Nero placed him down but didn't let go, "I...about what happened, I, uh", disheartened.

"I...I'm sorry for what…I did" honest eyes carrying the weights of past slip-ups.

Leon chuckled, "I think I already forgave you…for that" kissing his forehead cumbersome, not sure if he should be doting over his adult form.

The teen stood motionless, lowering his head, "thank you, for what you did, for me" obligated.

Dante embraced both of them feeling left the hell out "see if Verge was here he would finally understand the true meaning of bromance" handling them collectively, out of bad habit.

Vergil's words cut through the air, reducing the mood, "bromance does not entail sex" he amended.

"For it dissolves the true purpose of platonic relations…this travesty isn't brotherhood", confrontational.

They all observed as he wandered past. Clad in formfitting russet pants, black boots and a tailored black vest. Long arms bear, exquisitely formed, carrying both razor-blades which he tested by fluctuating capably before mounting with supreme care into their apportioned slots. Yamato was susurrating as he sheathed the katana. Private dialogue ensued. Vergil curved his mane, paying close courtesy to his rapiers verses.

"Your blade Dante is…disobedient, like you", manner unemotional.

"I will not put up with it again" the peril.

Rebel endured, hushed, feeling accountability. The blade prised Vergil and esteemed Yamato but had crossed the line in its devoutness towards his one and only master who immediately came to his edge's rescue.

"It's my fault Verge. Rebel isn't used to being handled by the kid, so technically, I should be the one training with him" discreetly rubbing the skulls encouragingly.

Rebel intoned, asking for pardon, knowing it was in the wrong. Not wanting his master to be castigated.

Yamato was trying to pay no attention to Dante who was stroking the vanes silk strip, insubordinate, "looking sexy today Mato baby?" He seduced.

Mato refused to be agitated by the rogue, still fuming at the stalemate situation between the blades. Rebel's flare for him had been overriding.

Vergil ignored Leon making him feel like a total stranger? Turning his back to them and inspecting the piano keys, the fingers of a sculptor exciting them.

"Why is…he here?"

Nero and Dante gaped in alarm. Leon was unquestionably hurt by the indifferent words and so were they.

The adolescence marched towards the elder whose face was unbending, "you said if Leon finds us we..."

Vergil bolted the covers, "we what…" heartless.

Nero was troubled by his distant manner, "the tattoo" he whispered not raising his voice to the man who was his sum. Curing the cut on Vergil's arm where he had been struck, by error, when trying to break up the sword fight, gliding his skin conscientiously. Expression never changing, Vergil was all these eyes could ever perceive.

The blue devil measured the uninvited guest, "you cannot stay" the final decision.

Leon dropped his head in excruciating refutation. If Vergil couldn't accept him, neither could they, injured by his stony dismissal. His life was fulfilled, his dream job awaited, his loved one's were by his side. Yet he couldn't let the three of them go, even if he wanted to. They had bent, wrought and altered him entirely, how could he go back to what was now foreign? He didn't recognise himself, without them.

Dante slewed his arms around Vergil's abdomen, "am not falling for it this time. I know you're joking" reviewing his brother's unruffled face fixedly, unconvinced.

Vergil was pitiless, "did I not tell you to stay back, yet you vainly defied me last night!"

"Do you expect me to believe it is simply coincidence that he has arrived here, of his own accord?" Meeting his twin's scrutiny. 

"Our blood is what he is drawn to...as are all demons and humans who have tracked, hunted and persecuted us. He's no different and cannot be trusted. He doesn't belong with us, never will" the factual conclusion.

The red devil seized his face and kissed his jaw hard enough to leave it incised with love, his only resistance. 

"Truth is bro you're the one who has changed his mind. I and the kid here know Blondie belongs with us, blood or no blood, the tattoo was whole. I had a good look..."

Vergil pushed him away, losing tolerance, "enough".

Nero tried again, "the visions I have, their proof that Leon...will be with…"

Vergil walked away but the two irresponsible puppies tailed rapidly trying to make their case.

Leon voiced slickly, "your right" he related.

"Honestly, I don't know what to feel. I've only known you guys a few days and don't understand what has taken place between us. All of this has been…pretty crazy", smirking.

Nero and Dante were silenced.

"Truth is, I don't know what this blood is or how these flames have changed me but" searching for his words carefully, coming up short.

"Brothers…never had any before…I was an only child" conceding that he was just a stray after all.

The adolescence was observing him sorrowfully.

Leon simpered and cupped his face warmly. "I don't want to be the one to hold you back she's still waiting for you...don't make her wait any longer". Recalling the words the youth had said to him in that sacred place where they first met, "our...mother" he understood now. "So go".

The teen gritted his fists dejectedly, "I wanted…you to be…there" the upsetting say.

Dante listened in, "Blondie" and advanced.

Leon trod rearward. The real reason he had come here was unexpectedly clear. He had to know if they were doing OK and that they were safe. They were. Vergil would never let anything happen to them. Leon had nothing left to say to the other man. Last night marked the concluding depth of what he felt. Dante directed his tender gaze towards his identical as he stood obstinate but didn't dare to take a single step past his edging, fingertips touching Vergil's which he held without a doubt. With that in mind Leon made his way out. His final shrug was one of loyalty. He would never return, especially if it meant bringing them harm, forgetting to hand over the keys to the motorcycle still parked out front. Striding over to find the odd marionette seated there, improbably low-spirited. Leon couldn't help wonder what the story was behind this little demon.

"Giselle", he dredged up her name feeling despondent himself.

She turned her head, making space for him to sit down. Leon mounted the bike behind her. "You can go back inside, he wasn't really mad at you…Dante" touching her head which she tolerated. 

Giselle didn't want to, still upset about her uphill love struggles. No one took her seriously, subjugated.

Leon was equally stressed, "come on, it's not so bad".

Clearly she couldn't leave with him and he would theoretically be taking the bus, checking his pockets, no cash, "great" the huff.

How was he going to get home? Biting his thumb when Vergil walked out of the pathway? Even the smudged and tarnished alleys were radiant where he treads. Leon couldn't help but gaze. There was an intense chemical and physical bond between them but they were all ostensibly dependent on the same individual and neither of them had identified the palpably obvious. Vergil remained unblemished. That lean neck bore no imperfections. When it came to governing and reigning over their hearts he was supremely King, absolute in his judgments. A characteristic he had inherited from Sparda whom correspondingly worked in the same manner, always choosing to stay one step ahead of cataclysm. Love wasn't just blind, but blinding and the pre-emptive blue devil didn't wish to be restrained in his judgments by docile sentiments.

Vergil gawked at Giselle, "why are you here? Did I not tell you to be vigilante over this site"?

The puppet shrilled in demonic tongue, injured by the sight of him. It was painful being around Vergil since he didn't love her the way Nero and Dante did. The arctic devil snatched her leg, dangling her meanly, dress falling on her face but she didn't fight him.

"Did I not say to protect the premises, your nothing but an irritation", severe in his methodology.

"Useless" designated presumption.

Leon removed her from Vergil's grasp, "think she has had a…rough day" sympathetic.

Giselle adjusted her dress and rubbed her chest in circular motions, adopting sign language. She was saying sorry, not wanting to talk back to her possessor.

Vergil unsung, "you're leaving?"

Leon held the keys, "is it okay if I take the bike. I don't want to walk the rest of the way" he had come unprepared.

Vergil's rejection had never been a part of the plan.

The said devil scanned, "you're not angry?"

Leon sat Giselle on the front that took the keys from his distracted hands and plugged.

"I know you're doing this to protect them. I only came here to give you the location but I should have guessed you would know".

Vergil observed the puppet, "she has taken a liking to you...as have they", expression warmer.

Leon detected, hurt by the variation. He rose and bowed his brow over Vergil's. It was a demonstration of veneration and respect. In all the prior commotion he had forgotten to greet him. Where had he learned this momentous sign...unable to recall…until, "you", his heart aided to which the elders eyes diverted in thought.

Leon let Vergil go at length, in shock, when he felt a light kiss entrenching his forehead. Vergil had kissed him, for all his toils, indicative of the moment his father had patted his cheek as he left the door, for the very last time. All at once hurt and confused. This was goodbye and he wanted to stay...why couldn't he just stay? The colourings that were swarming and superseding his existence were weakening and diminishing, leaving him a little darker, a little isolated and just that much more secluded. His father's passing had taught him all wounds could heal with time, but no one had ever told him that the feeling of loss never truly fades. He would know. Vergil's trace and attendance was distressing, a tear sprawled, annoyed for dropping his level-headed flair. Why was he crying?

Giselle was still making circular gestures, asking for forgiveness, untiring. Vergil's finger gladdened her cheek and she stilled.

"I was worried that you may be under the sway of Dante's blood. Perhaps, I was too severe" attending to his cheeks next, swiping his thumbs under his eyes making the blonde feel even worse, refusing the kindly hands which were causing him deep anguish.

Vergil's studious eyes wandered over his inconsolable face. "You have made your home here, with us, and have my permission to come and go as you please. Though the two of them will likely find you, no matter where you are", cautioning in advance that they would literally be turning up at his doorstep, unsolicited. 

"Stay" the altered verdict.

Leon screened his face and abruptly grinned. Just the mental picture of having to hide the devils around the house from Chris's radar was making him chuckle overpoweringly. He was embarrassed, self-conscious and humbled that he was acting like a thorough chump in front of Vergil. No one had ever made him feel such complex outpourings, trying to make sense of his current state of mind.

"You were testing me, or were you testing…them?" Vigilant, wondering what he had done right to pass this specific examination?

Vergil elated his chin, soul exposed as he took a heartfelt tear by means of his lips from the crook of his smooth eyes. "Both" he solved tasting them, analysing the essence of their latest affiliate. These too were saline, brows upturned, fact-finding. Dante had tricked him. All tears were salty…dissatisfied.

Leon sat reassured, "guess I'll be coming over then". This crucial acceptance and approval was what he had been longing for.

The blue devil comprised, "you even cry, like them…three snivelling children" distinguishing.

Leon could only chuckle in reply, stopping, when he gathered the oncoming rumble of a duplicate bike as it executed a chancy wheelie. This Ducati was a notable indigo. Nero and Dante sat cheerfully having ridden without helmets, making the officer sulk at the barefaced lawbreakers. Dante was looking rather showy in stonewashed jeans and white shirt, Vergil's garments. The teen hadn't bothered altering.

"Alright kid, you're with grandpa Verge who won't go beyond the 90 mark. Hop on Blondie" signalling as his wary passenger got off.

Leon sat scrambled, "where?"

Vergil offered guidance, "we're riding to Fortuna, it's a three hour trek" fingers lightly cruised his tattoo setting it excruciatingly tingling.

"Nero wishes for you to accompany us, as do I" fondly.

Leon retort like a true copper, "am driving", jostling the hunter whose eyes squeezed at the next statement.

"No one is going over the speed limit and you're wearing a helmet, you big dope".

He had an indefensible track record with automobiles but he would at least observe the road guidelines. Trying to put the helmet on Dante's head that snatched it from his hand and tossed it so far it actually may have finished in orbit.

Leon was unusually calm, "could you be any more…annoying?"

Dante lugged, "I know you're only trying to protect me officer but it's not like my skull wouldn't heal if I was unfortunate enough to be hit by a truck seeing as..."

Leon elbowed in front, irritated, trying to glide him back, "there is nothing inside that dense skull of yours" the taunt.

Vergil mounted the vacant bike ordering Giselle to look after the grounds. She obediently heeded still fondling her cheek where he had touched her, over the moon.

The individual who had instigated this long journey was upright and chewing his lips nervously. Vergil took his hand, "seat", checking his wallet to ensure they had currency. His brother would be gluttonous as soon as they hit the freeway. He really was the father of this boisterous troop. Nero mounted behind him, gripping his shoulders tightly. Leon and Dante continued to bicker. Vergil smartly pulled away.

The red devil gelled to Leon's spinal, "whenever you're ready Blondie", yawning loudly for stress.

The blonde was snappy as they hauled away from the pavement, "why do I always get stuck with you?"

Dante's hands proficiently slithered underneath his shirt and persecuted a sassy nipple, "coz you love me the most" suckling his earlobe, leaving his skin slimy. Before Leon could attack, the aggravating wolfhound took over to catch unto Vergil, reversing positions as expected.

"Hold onto your panties officer, this could be a…bumpy ride", blasting the bike at full volume and hurtling to speeds no human should ever venture on.

"Let's hope we survive", the loud prayer from the said human.

Nero sat daunted. He didn't want them to know how fearful he was to return to his dark past. Even in his visions he had dragged them…terrified, frightened and without help. His demons were buried out there and he would have to face them all. The youth could never wipe out his blood stained past. He had decimated a whole town in his sorrows, watched women and children scald to embers, all their trapped screams and spine-tingling calls echoed. How was he to erase these gruesome images? In the eyes of her enraged son, they were all sinners, without restoration. None of them justified sympathy or mercy for they had taken her away.

Just like the doomed cities of Sodom and Gomorrah. He had vanquished Fortuna as their destroyer. Their blood could never fill the gaping hole they had inflicted in his soul. "Nero" he could hear her soft pleas behind closed eyes, her cries, clutching Vergil with all his force, descending into his figure, joining. Each and every time he was frightened he would run back to his furtive haven. The way Dante did, gripping conviction, reliance and hope. In Vergil's spirit, he submitted his beleaguered soul.

The quiet elder delivered, "why do you weep for your past and shed these empty tears? You cannot change nor alter what has already come to pass" tutoring.

"Open your eyes and look only ahead", firm.

Nero did as he was told, redeeming his eyes. Vergil was right here, with him. They were chasing the gust. The world was blurring. The cuffs binding his wrists had long been demolished. The dark tangible emplacements were gone…to be set free…to rove, purposefully on the road to find again, his inescapable calling. Little by little, step by step, these grey memories were ever-changing into gleaming tints. He had arisen from the depths of Hell to ascend the staggering heights of Heaven. The real journey to self-discovery had only just begun.


	30. The Journey

The Atlantic blue was zipping amid torrents of normal crusade, the equable rider adhering to the strict speed restrictions, controlled and deliberate manipulation...stitching a line, stalking Vergil. The raging red gaining…conserving orderliness. The no-good hunter was displaying remarkable restraint. Belligerent instincts for unchecked fun ready to discharge, prickly fingers clasping the handlebars to obey the rules, for now. Leon was positive this good behaviour wasn't going to last much longer, allowing for the ill-behaved spark in the fiends eyes. Dante's body was unbendable and that big mouth bolted, cleverly plotting. Something had to give? That something was an expanse of empty road, approaching, taking them straight out of the congested city, towards the sovereignties of the wilds?

The hunter speeded, getting in front of Vergil, slowing him down, with intent. The elder avoided, by-passing. Dante shadowed stubbornly. The motorbikes were noising their heated discussion. Speed disputed, irritating tongue poking, one hand going to a galling eyelid which he sunk. Leon spanked his teamsters head, shouting at him to concentrate on the road ahead. Like the evil would listen.

As an alternative, he opted to needle Nero. Knowing the kid would play right into his hands and arouse Vergil into exploit. Raising one elbow he flapped, boldly jeering. The youth reacted, horrified. Blaspheming the bothersome villain under his breathes. Dante was imitating a chicken; it couldn't be anything else but a freaking chicken. The shitty childhood account had been his undoing, resulting in malicious blackmail, ranging from household tasks, to perverted cosplay. Nero fought the urge to suspend the red devil with his bringer, and fling him off a precipice if one would happen to come by. Choosing to hide behind Vergil's shoulder to see, hear and do no evil, in other words, evade the old man all in all.

The devil opposite made a, "come on" wave to his sibling who was steadily eyeing him with a conservative face.

Vergil granted "he wishes to race…" giving in to the ceaseless pestering.

They halt in the middle of the empty lanes, amid the apportioning white lines. He wanted to get this over with, intelligences sketching the next 8 miles for the finishing lines. They were to be the olive trees planted by early travellers to these foreign lands, hundreds of years ago, rows upon rows of jade. Their oily aromas were floating in the air, listening for any incoming traffic.

Nero mumbled "let's take him", positive.

"Otherwise he, he, won't let up", more troubled by the prospects of the blue devil learning about his daft chicken, non-fiction.

Dante inverted and came to a standstill beside his twin who accredited his bothersome conduct.

"Just this once…" sharp, he was the one accountable for cossetting his sibling to this degree.

The pleased hunter locked the front brakes. Burning the rear tires and reducing their life, parting his mark on the sapphire Ducati, belligerently slanting his stomach over the tank, pulling Leon with him.

"Let's make this interesting Verge. First one to retrieve an olive wins, that includes the participants on our respective teams", not giving the blonde a choice but to join their game, back-up.

The adorable fox would most likely try to tip things in Vergil's favour and deign to cheat. The kid would do anything to look cool in his brother's eyes, even if it meant whipping him. Leon felt Dante's heart beat rapidly, titillated. He wasn't alone. Vergil's was wandering in the fast lane, Nero's arm signalling. A contest was imminent. The passengers knew they better clutch. This bantam drama was a fierce rivalry to decide which twin was the superior rider. Dante spotted the car speeding down the plummeting hills, getting ready and…set.

Leon entreated "do we really have to do this?" Lukewarm in his discouragement, frankly he wanted to see who would win.

The teen replied, "old man won't cut the bullshit until he fails", peering over his riders shoulder and smirking. Since he was a part of the race he would make sure they won. Seeing as he could reach the olives with his bringer, caught up in the thrill of the game.

Dante was transfixed, "keep the dirty side down" wafting a kiss towards his brother for blessings.

Vergil sighted the car as it curved the corner, still unaware of the obstruction ahead, them. The furious M3 honked from a distance as the clones made their tactical arrangements. This was nerve-racking. Leon seized Dante's chest. The only one who could conceivably die in this battle? The atmosphere sizzling, pulses stinging, adrenaline pumping. The M3 zoomed closer but didn't reduce speed. The red devil took the opening to hammer down. The heat and fumes from his exhaust leaving Vergil standing as he dipped the bike horizontally and curled the disruptive car. Vergil judged his speed and accelerated swiftly, darting the BMW, right on his tail. The front wheels on his back as they commenced the twisty road on 100 miles per hour, the resistance on their bodies intense. Leon couldn't keep his eyes open. Aerodynamics colliding with his frame, tucking into Dante's to ease off the elements as he set the 200 bench mark.

"Alright bro, let's see what you got" fired-up.

Dante couldn't slow down, rolling on the throttle, coming head strong…reckless. Checking his mirror as his brother displayed his front wheels. Bikes heated. The engine and mechanics exquisitely furnished to play out these hazardous speeds. Vergil was catching up. He was a superb rider, head-to-head, with the man who had given him pursuit the day they were born. Maximum speeds gotten. Engines roaring, bikes feathered, cutting the air like two hawks somersaulting the heavens.

Dante chuckled…tilting to catch Vergil's face that couldn't thwart a parallel smile…he looked just like Sparda, sensing an unexpected dip in verve. A giant phoenix ascended. The luminous bird coursed upwards, eyes blinking inflamed. The kid couldn't just make a fist now but any shape he so desired. Vergil had tapped into his interminable power and Nero had come to grips with it in his quest to gratify his beloved teacher. The energetic phoenix flooded through them, the gush pushing their bike back and the flux accelerating their opponents, as planned.

The hunter blurts "that little cheat!" They had sadly dropped behind.

The blustered blonde caught the tail of the bird evaporating, amused by his riders sulking face. "Can't say you didn't deserve it" patting his head, calming.

Vergil slowed down to a halt, "you used your powers?" Cheating was unwarrantable.

The youth flattened his wind struck mop, feeling remorse. He loved the old man but was severely competitive, "he started it" hearing the sound of familiar birds that only ever foraged these parts. They were getting closer…imperceptible terror rising as apprehensive eyes averted the haunting scenery. Their rivals caught up. Dante and Leon's hair was even more puffed, courtesy of his sneaky shenanigans.

"That was a real cheap-shot kid" applying the brakes, upset.

Vergil knew this squabble would never end if he didn't interfere. Observing the foliage, "did you not say whoever gets to the first olive…" translating the race wasn't quite finished.

They all stared at each other and then the row of trees.

The adolescence was the first to make a run for it. Jumping the steel traffic barrier and faltering downhill.

The hunter rapidly ensued over the obstacle.

"Move it Blondie, both members need olives" making a dash after the little fox who was tearing like a bullet.

Vergil and Leon ogled each other as the jackal bellowed, "you better run kid…better run" crazed.

Leon slipped off his jacket and flung it on the bike, "you coming?"

The clandestine wolf was sited under a tree, "you should hurry" the demand.

Leon skipped the barrier and contributed. He could see Nero and Dante heading rapidly towards the shrubberies…smiling. He didn't want to be left behind, hastening to catch up. Sprinting, out of breathe. They were intruding on private land, the only man to have noticed the hefty sign.

"Can't afford to get a criminal record" he runs by again. Chris would kill him.

The grunting teen spun his head as his hunter yelled, "best not be using that bringer again, otherwise it's not valid" accusing.

Nero delivered his victory speech. "I don't need to, b-beating your ass, fair and square" winning.

He could see the trees, lumbering over a rough square of dirt, misplacing traction and alighting on his red-looking face. The red devil laughed at his tumble, abusively stepped on his butt and dashed towards the finishing line when the fuming teen ensnared his leg with his…transmitter. Dante fell hard and was being hauled backwards, away from his prize. Trying to grasp the terrain but the yank was too heavy-duty. Nero twisted over his build and tried to stand but was looped.

"Fair and square my ass", wheezing but refuting to let the gritty kid go…in love with his confrontational and indomitable self. The real reason he had originated these games in their full swing.

The cuddled teen whined, "l-let…m-me...go", his only chance to amaze his teacher, by defeating the old man, was slipping away.

The competing blonde rushed by in likewise speeds, not even stopping to say hello.

Dante was thrilled by the champion forecasts. "You can do it Kennedy, remember to get two", deciding to snuggle with his delectable detainee, letting his partner do the hard work.

Leon explained quickly, "we got company" enormous dogs were evidently patrolling the area and headed their way.

The hunter checked, fawning, "pooches" prodding the kid's ass.

"Go ahead, I will play with them" hounds were his primary love.

The unfettered adolescence sniggered and hurried after Leon who was hard at work. Plucking olives and eating them, handing over two seasoned ones. "Here" closing his fist, "winner" he winked, dusting the grime from his perspiring face as he fixed his breathless inhales.

Vergil didn't join them, segregating an incidence that was overshadowing. It was the reason he had come to this specific location. He was examining the recent skeletons of a Hell Portal that had once stood the test of time, only to be abolished, reviewing a few remnants of the age old stone. The immense power needed to destroy a Hell Gate would have to be extraordinary and employed by steel that was unbounded in forte. There was only one man he could think of who was accomplished enough to take on this insurmountable task…"Sparda" was the silent championing. The troubled adolescence wasn't the only one petrified of meeting with his dark past, hearing the sound of loud barks and hilarity, making his way in their bearing.

Dante was under enemy control, one amid his legs, grappling him, the other slobbering his face so he couldn't flee. The great dames in question had conquered their trespasser. Dante sat up and scrubbed his drool filled expression. One of the dames spotted Vergil and advanced flimsily. He extended one finger and the dog licked submissively. It bears a resemblance to their family pet which he had unkindly slew…along with…A monster had prowled the Sparda household. The blue devil gazed upon his trembling hands…how rare that they would choose to quiver now of all times.

Dante's smile deadened, "Verge…?"

Leon and Nero strode back, fondling the affectionate canines as they happily became accustomed with their latest visitors. The receiving blonde locked his eyes as his face was roughed up by a wet tongue, "pretty tamed guys for watch dogs". They had been stalking him with indulging in mind, not mauling, still grinding the pits. The organic olives were delicious.

Nero was patting the other one with his claws. The dog whined and rolled over, necessitating his belly be brushed by his talons. "Can we keep a dog?" Ejaculating out loud, gawking at Vergil. He never had a pet and these dogs were incredible. Love at first sight.

"No", the harsh notation as the blue devil made his way towards the bikes.

The three chatting men trailed him, the lovely dames safeguarding until they heard a loud whistle. Their owner was calling. Nero polished their ears as they yapped and dutifully hurried home. The refreshed men ascended uphill to continue their trip, making a final stop at a gas station to replenish their bikes. Dante rushed over to Vergil and stole his wallet, straight into the café to arrange a table and mealtime. The age-old waitress poured four cups of coffee. Leon wondered back from the washrooms, seating opposite to comment.

"He's anxious" viewing the teen glued to the elder's side as he dissected the Ducati's.

Dante bore, "they both are", having felt their fluctuating emotions the minute they had left DMC.

Four plates of toast, scrambled eggs and hash browns landed on the board.

Leon reviewed, "wanna share..." not referring to the nutrition.

The hunter's secretive eyes marvelled Vergil, "my old man, before he left us, mentioned the kid and this town. It was the last conversation they ever had. He holds onto it, word for word...I know. It's why we entered that jail" resting a hand under his jawbone.

"You saw what happened to our mom...Sparda loved Eva. Coming here, with the kid, is a big step...but he's hiding something?"

The listening blonde prodded his food. "You…blame yourself for what happened that day?"

Dante looked uneasy, "what he had to do because of...me" stopping to think.

"I'm…a fuck-up and he always takes the fall" sighing.

Leon was reduced mute by his pensive regrets, frail. Love like theirs was inexhaustible.

"Your wrong", he rectified shedding some light, having seen their mother's sad passing.

"Never thought I'd say it but you're kind of introverted when it comes to him. You're too hard on yourself and he knows it" gazing at Vergil.

"What happened that day…was no one's fault…you both saved her…didn't you?"

Dante's smirk arose. Checking the scrapes he had left on his neck. "See, this is why I love you, smart, handsome and observant" kneading his thighs, satisfying.

Leon jolt and slammed into the table, in pain not pleasure. "Cut it out" the polite notice.

The adjudicating waitress frowned having spotted the sexy caresses.

These God fearing folks were not used to two men being this chummy!

"Homos…" the anxious lady squealed, nudging her partner rapidly who was working the cashboxes, informing him of the disturbing phenomenon.

The senior put on his glasses to get a good sighting. They didn't match any preconceptions he held, watching the white haired fella groping the blonde ones knees, disgusted. Leon clasped the hunter's exasperating hands before he could break his legs. The doorbells alerted the owners of two more of, 'their kind', walking in. The adolescence sat beside Dante, eagerly picking up a fork. Dumbfounded, he hadn't gobbled the fillings, smelling them doubtfully. There might be something wrong with the food.

"About time", the red devil chomped.

Nero licked his lips and mimicked his chewing role model. The waitress continued to view them like a bunch of diseased animals. Dante rubbed his mouth and progressed to eating everyone else's scraps, clearing the plates in good conscience and not wasting any food. Waving at the waitress who quickly produced the bill by scribbling on her notepad, conferring. The eye-catching devil calculated the notes and gave her his best smile, making her peer at him with pitiful eyes.

"You brothers should find yourself what the Lord, Jesus Christ, has made wholesome for you", hasty in her findings.

Dante undid his shirt, unable to resist, "are you coming onto me babe?"

Construing her name-tag, "Marie, don't worry we're all straight shooters and exclusively gay…only for each other", breakdown of their multifaceted bond.

"The only dicks I love, are these three" ejecting all other menfolk universally.

Nero clogged on his toast, to stop fits of laughter. Even Vergil and Leon found her baffled face humorous. Her husband was watching as she tallied the cash and tried to hand the conversational demon his change.

"Keep it" he whirred giving a sweet browse through to her spouse whose bushy eyebrows conserved reproachfully. He had enough.

"You fellas need to leave. Families in this part of town keep to Gods way, and don't take kindly to your kind, bunch of fucking faggots".

Opening the till "people like you will perish in the hellfire's…fags" muttering vulgarities.

The modest hunter belched, "excuse me" he hiccups.

Thoroughly unmindful of the ongoing sermon...occupied with a toothpick to extricate foodstuff amid his tusks. Cleaning adequately and flicking the stick towards the dartboard and hitting the bull's-eye. Leon chuckled at his pranks as he handed him a pick to trial his skills in a different game.

The uneasy adolescence had been paying attention to the man's harsh words, setting off a chain of memories, rubbing the side of his cheek, agonisingly. "Whore", "witch", "burn", "slut"..."devil child"…were ringing in his auricles. They had stoned his mother, leaving lesions of cuts over his flesh.

Vergil observed and erected, the air turning frigid, the aged man dipping the loose coins, skirting his gaze. The young man standing before him was giving off influences of nobility. The soundless one, who hadn't said a single word, was the hardest to estimate in their group. The hunter hopped over the kid, thumping into his twins back, not wanting to miss out. Vergil was royally pissed. Wayward hands testing the margins of his brother's pants demanding to slip his digits to trace the sinking hipbones, with pert emphasis…turned-on.

Vergil abetted, hands outspread over the counter giving his sibling better access. The red devil's lashes glided his neck, delighted by the bidding. Dante's lips widened around his collar, tongue extracting...eyes sealed over sensory moans that pronounced in rouse. Vergil snatched his head, his sucking twin retaliated by lustily biting into his nape, grinding from behind, shaking the counter as the salty taste entered his rims, hands hiking up, sliding and parting his vest, thumbs rubbing and flicking his nipples, observable for all to see. The old man couldn't look away, in shock, but duty-bound to digest the unfolding message. The pot of coffee Marie was holding smashed. Now that he had their attention he taught.

"Mortals have a meagre understanding of what is austerely considered to be good and evil" the observation…"sheep".

Vergil turned into Dante's mouth kissing him unrestrainedly…thrusting his tongue inside his brother's starving lips, eyes filling to the ridge with blood. Their devils rattled in their enclosures. Mouths tarnished as they gashed their rims amidst fangs, gulping and quaffing their gushing tincture….stimulated and frenzied in the midst of inured territories. Vergil's bloody orbs instructing Dante's who was groaning comprehensively, hands floundering his well-formed shoulders and model stomach, gathering the man's terrified eyes as he gazed into his incensed stare.

Vergil snarled, "be sober-minded, be watchful".

"Your adversary, the devil, prowls around like a roaring lion", voice distorting, showcasing his otherworldly fangs for ascendancy...preventing his trigger…just.

"Seeking someone to...devour" in completion, fearsome.

The man's eyes rolled the wrong way, collapsing.

Dante chuckled glee. "I thought you said to keep a low profile" sucking his still bleeding tongue before it treated, eyes returning to their lovely cobalt.

"Can't say, this isn't going to be reported", full of vanity.

"You're such a fucking badass" slipping his fingers out of Vergil's pants, not before tracing his much-loved muscle which he didn't get a chance to fondle.

"That was pretty fucked-up", comprehensively implicit on the 'F' word.

The bemused elder washed Dante's gory cheeks, saturating his hands in a jug of water, "language" unenthusiastic.

The bright hunter sniggered, "sorry", still feeling horny and pampered when his brother let go wordlessly with a flicker of hesitation.

Marie hurried to her husband's aid, "John?!"

Vergil gripped the teen who was viewing the scene emptily, "we're leaving" the moderate tug.

The divided officer was checking the old man's pulse and pupils. "He'll be alright, just keep him hydrated".

Kind-heartedly taking her hands and positioning her so she was seated beside her hubby.

Dante loomed to offer rigorous advice. Making his latest victims cower.

"Food was pretty good Marie, but you need to go easy on the salt", licking his blood-spattered fingers and slinging the friendly officer over his shoulder.

"You folks have a nice day now" smacking the blondes rear, making the mere mortals recoil in seizure.

Leon questioned pleasantly, "can't believe am getting used to this" waving goodbye to the purified husband and wife.

The bell rung as the hunter marched out with Leon slumped, making the waiting teen smile pleasantly. Despair and emptiness was all he had ever identified with, happiness was new to him. He didn't want to lose it. It was what he truly feared…losing them. All he touched turned black. A fact he hadn't forgotten. Nero gazed at Vergil, kissing the corner of his arcing brows...their superhero. Heroes could protect you…even from yourself.

"I wasn't angry" the thought.

"I'm just...scared" expressive.

"What if...this is just another dream, because it's beginning to feel like one" catching the crook of the elder's lips as he turned to listen over the growl of the engine.

"I'm beginning to think, this is...too good to be…" unsettled.

Vergil nipped his lip in retort making him wince and shy away, "is that not real" ragging.

The hybrid licked his stinging lips, cutting, painful, yet warmly tender, "real" he settled closer, gripping conviction as they raced onwards. A lush forest arose, pines, firs and maples ruling the impenetrable scenery. Finding a secluded cycle trail they entered the solitude of quiet composure. Not a soul to be found, just a distant stream resonating and singing. They shut off their engines. The ground was marred by their black tire tracks. Their boots crunching the fallen leaves, it was autumn. The woods were a fervent red, signalling the chill of winter and departure of summer…entrancing.

"Fresh air" Dante broke the silence.

"Lead the way kid" keen.

Nero hopped on his back, "your turn to carry me old man, it's my Birthday".

The hunter puffed out his chest affectedly like a devoted papa. Showing off to the two behind him, "am at your service" he bustled kindly.

"Although, you're getting heavy, better watch that pizza intake" lifting him higher.

Nero went quiet as they marched uphill, keeping to the trails.

Leon surveyed the bikes as Vergil left the keys behind, "aren't you worried someone will take them?"

Vergil walked by, "Giselle has cast a seal".

Leon checked his braid, "figures!"

The elder interviewed. "You're entering the…elite force with the…two?"

He still remembered the uncharacteristic girl and the dark haired man. Impressed with both, their occupations and backgrounds had made for worthy appraisals. For ones so young they were regimented, having kept a close tab on the mortal's progress.

Leon blushed, "managed to pass the last snag".

"Jill and Chris haven't forgotten you guys either, taken a real liking to you", truthful.

Vergil kept a close watch over the two in front who were at each other's throats.

"I gather you will keep our whereabouts from them. Mortals tread a dangerous line in our...company".

Advising he had made the first and last exception, only for him.

Leon was honoured, "you don't have to tell me twice", pleased to be quietly conversing with the calmer twin. "You must have had your hands full with them?" Wondering who was giving Vergil more trouble.

He lit, "both", thoughts coinciding. "They are equally frightening when it comes to their...insecurities".

Dante turned, "my ears are burning, can only be love. I have quite the fan following now officer Kennedy, including you".

Nero made fun of, "yeah, for flashing old men".

Dante bumped his head, "funny, by the way, do you think you can remember the place you got chased by the killer chick…mph".

Nero roofed his mouth before he could repeat. "I will kill you, if you mention the C word".

The malevolent one slimed his palm, making him mumble and wipe it clean on the offender's cheek who leered.

"Your secret is safe with me kid", while struggling to climb a steeper slope, with his grudging rider huffing suspiciously.

Vergil whispered "they are comparable in their temperament and worry me equally, for they share the same weakness and flaw."

Leon stopped in his tracks, "what?"

The elder could see the stream cutting through the forest edge as they continued uphill, "me…no matter how much they grow in strength, their dependency doesn't change. Others could exploit this feebleness".

Leon lowered, "doubt that's going to happen. You love them just as much, probably even more, being hypocritical don't you think", taking off his jacket and flipping it over.

Vergil was bearing in mind, his disagreements. "You see my ownership of them...as Eros?" using the ancient Greek meaning of love in his ruminating.

The clever blonde reflected, "I'm no love expert but yeah it's Eros alright".

Vergil smiled disparagingly, "Nero and I can be measured in love. But Dante and I are undertaking incestuous relations…turpitude. Defiling the constitution of love and all it stands for". Stroking his fingers, "our father had assumed the mortal customs, long ago, and his sons have defiled them…Godless".

"I didn't think you would be so blind and bias in your outlooks, as they are", facetious.

Leon stood ambivalent, not wanting to raise his voice, out of respect, but perceptibly angered by his words, defending Dante brazenly. "He worships you…worship" saddened. "Don't ever say it in front of him", indecisive, "and I don't even believe it coming from you" at odds.

Vergil treaded closer in pursuit of assistance for what was leaving him misjudged. "I thought you would comprehend. Were you not close to your human father? Had you a brother? What would he…say?" He adjudged, "if our father was to return, and we are to be one household. How do I answer for my...actions?"

"I do not regret what I have chosen willingly. But for his sake, I would prefer to take the culpability of the consequences of our love". Expression fluctuating moderate, "without hurting our father as his son, a brother as his sibling…a lover to his heart", these delicate ties were difficult to preserve all at once.

Leon, by now, understood the difficult context. Vergil was apprehensive about Dante and rightfully so. It was easy to become compressed between them and their worries. Kind of like his crazy hair, counselling some backup.

"If it comes to that...just tell your pops what I tell myself when I see that bulky ape…you couldn't picture him with anyone else…" cracking a smile at Dante's expense that chose that exact moment to shout long range.

"It better be praise Blondie…better be praise" too far to eavesdrop, even with his impressive audible range.

Vergil echoed in acceptance, "I should bear my…heart?"

Leon fell in step, "he's no good at hiding his feelings for you, and wouldn't be surprised if your pops was onto the little chimp". Mind conjuring an image of the monkey swinging from a chandelier, wondering what it would have been like growing up with them...pure hell.

The blue devil rotated detecting a force that was tracking their every move, impassively watching over his shoulder...fearful.

Leon waited over the hill, breaking a shrub, "you alright?"

Vergil strode, "it's nothing"…frightened by the familiar scent, inclosing.

Dante huffed as they came upon a familiar glade. The teen lowered his legs to take in their new surroundings. He was returning to the ruins of what his hands had destroyed, sentient consciousness whispering…this is where he had started his killing…cold-blooded eradicator and murderer...of women and children.

"Kid" Dante hugged him from behind, knowing how hard this must be.

"You're not alone, not this time…never will be" stanch.

The purple flowers were still prosperous…he hadn't noticed them because now they fused beautifully with the pristine pastures. This is where he had met Nero's mother, she was real and he had felt her hearts anguish.

"We're here" he reminded.

Slanting the adolescences face to assess. The kid bore the same painful expression the first day they had met, concerned.

Nero's arms curled his stomach, holding intensely. "I'm…n-not alone" the murmur.

Leon caught up, spotting. He stooped to examine the elaborate flowers, clutching one…breaking it. Speculating, if this was the same one Dante had offered to him. Caressing the petals, her dress brushed his cheek, bare feet on the gravel for the sake of her son, lengthy hair waving in the wind. They had seen this picture long before it was drawn, each man clinging to a piece of debris from their wretched pasts. On this hurting road, they hadn't passed each other by but chosen to share their scars, inner fears…as one. Upright he offered the floret to the red devil, as tribute. This bloom was a testimonial of what they had gained…the strength and courage to withstand a friendship…a love, unlike any other. The man in front took it from his grips gently.

Vergil was new to this dwelling, detailing the unstable youth with strong judgements, absorbing his talons to lead him the rest of the way. The deteriorating adolescence could see flares of her face as he swung inside her arms. He had tried so hard to forget her and felt piercing guilt. Losing her…had cost him a part of himself. Each difficult step enlightening…he was her hope….the light in her dark world…the reason for her smiles through self-contained tears. Nero was broken-hearted, seizing his agonizing chest. How he wished he could have saved his mother. He should have. He had the powers to. Why did he have to lose her the way he did? Dante had voiced the exact same regrets….pain swelling.

Heartbroken recollections were floating like feathers. Why did he come here? Kind fingers skated over his, silently encouraging. Nero raised his head to watch Vergil in the cursed place that was his soul. He was a captive in his own head, a blemished human being, turning around to surface Leon and Dante who were keeping their guarded eyes over him. How did he find these three? Did he deserve this blessed new life? Reaping the sweet scent of water lilies, throat heavy as they drew closer and closer towards the distinctive place enveloped in his heart, untied only for the three of them…arriving.

The visions and imaginings could never compare to the real world he had given life to with his shimmers. These soils had been enriched by his troubled roots. Pink petals were swaying around him. He stopped having seen the Sakurai tree in the remoteness. Kyrie was standing beneath, white dress shifting, hair obscuring her face which she raised with both hands, driving it back…smiling. The taste of her lips…his first kiss…her last breathe. Cursed, he was cursed. Everything he heartened died. Heaving, about to breakdown. Forgetting his new found beliefs, trying to take his hand away. Vergil was stronger, dragging, so that he may take the lasting strides towards mercy.

Kyrie strode to receive him. He couldn't meet her eyes, lowering his gaze towards her unembellished feet, trembling as her warm fingers outlined his cheeks, her curls sweeping his face and skin. She kissed his bowed lips. Nero knew this was just a haze of buds, dislodged and scattering. Yet these rosy petals would sustain to remind him of her residual traces. As far as he could remember, he had never forgiven himself for causing her death. Neither he the courage to talk to his brothers about this stunning girl he had lost.

"Nero", she breezes his name. Forcing his eyes to lift and look straight at her. "Kyrie...I'll always…love…" she smiled and stepped onto his feet. He raised her up and into his arms. He was taking the final stand to escape the monsters he was keeping within…to purify his wrecked soul.

"I'm sorry…I will never, ever, lose anyone", clenching to take a final pledge before her, "even if it means, I have to become a monster".

Kyrie kissed his lips over, "live" her one and only wish as the petals sprinkled.

Nero stood stock-still as his remaining path was littered by their breakability, arms empty.

Leon strode towards the lake where Vergil was presently standing. It was faithfully untouched…the sunset lilies…the sparkling waters and her grave. Every detail was precise, bending at the edge of the creek to extract a handful of soil, releasing. They had made it. Leon had kept his promise, setting his sights on a Lillie. The stalk tough and he couldn't cut it, reaching for an alternative when a spirit sword sliced the floret, carving three more in its wake, displacing them on the flat surface of the glossy silver so as to keep their splendour complete. The rapier soared to his master's side as he attained, handing one to the appreciative blonde who shadowed him. Dante reached for his.

Nero wasn't ready, shielding his face. He needed interval. To comprehend just how far he had come and how much he had changed. He had never fit anywhere. All his life…all his life he had struggled to find his real identity. To where it was he belonged? To accept who he was? The quiet elder cupped his distraught face. Nero undid his eyes on whim, figure shaking with sobs, seizing Vergil's hands. It was OK to fall to pieces because they were all here to put him back together.

"I thought..." stammering, "I thought…I would never find this, my, my mother is...here", the magnitude of his sentiments unhinging his core, spilling his heart.

"I buried her here...my mother, I...I...couldn't save her from them Vergil" the repentance.

"I…buried her" the painful pent-up cry.

Vergil barred his eyes. He could see Eva the moment he had destroyed her. Her bleeding outspread hands…her diminishing smile. He had never told Dante that the first time he had embraced his mother was before he burned her body, lifting her into his arms to feel her dying warmth. He had mourned her loss, all alone. His last duty as her eldest son had been his obligation to perform her burial rituals, which he had undertaken with painstaking love. Preparing her body, cleaning her mortal skin of the wound he had heartlessly perpetrated. Selecting her dress, his fingers had stopped on the red one. It was his brother's choice. The blue devil had no right over her, had no right to be here, had no right to lay her to rest and yet he couldn't cease. Clothing her and taking her into their parents' bedchamber, laying her gently to the cradle. Vergil had wept. His filthy tears had fallen on his mother's virtuous face. He had tried to clean them from her skin which was growing cold. Stroking her face and whispering the trembling words into her ear.

"Mother, for what I have done to you...all my life...won't you, forgive me?"

He had begged on his hands and knees. Yet he didn't merit her forgiveness? Fearful hands had taken hers, arranging them, one over the other. Eva was still wearing her wedding band. Sparda's pledge to protect, to cherish, and love, until her dying breathe hadn't been advocated. Vergil lowered his head onto her hands and kissed their motherly tips. The hands he had constantly run away from, would never again seek him out. God knew he was unworthy of her touch, gripping the bed sheets in stabbing pain. Wishing these loving hands would stroke his mane the way they had his brother's, at all times.

"I'm sorry mother…it had to be...me. I swear on you. I will protect your precious son…with my life" his unbroken oath to her.

"Vergil", a voice bid his name.

He glanced and found Dante standing outside the doors, heartened, unkempt hair layering his eyes until it was asserted back to rival his. This wasn't his brother, suffering. Yamato had tracked his master, without his consent, and was standing in the entrance, seeking permission to come in. Form replicating his, the only one exemplary to set foot in these heightened halls. The knife-edge had played a major part in what now lay in remnants. How could Mato not continue to follow after, for it too had made a pledge with Sparda, that the consummate rapier would safeguard their household as would Rebellion? Sparda had never left his sons unassisted but even he couldn't have foreseen this tragedy.

Vergil was infuriated. "Why did you follow me? Did I not ask you to stay back?

Distraught, "you mean to betray me"?

This was a private matter and he had been caught frail, pitifully weak. Although hardened from a young age, even he was far too young to shoulder this affliction alone. Mato knew Vergil the way a heart could know a beat. Spreading a hand and exposing the golden ribbon. Yamato wished to gift a part of itself to its Mistress, only with the young master's consent.

Vergil stood, quietly contemplating, "you may" allowing.

Mato strode over in discreet footsteps. The room was submerged in darkness. Vergil tilts to see where the silk was being knotted. Mato had chosen the wedding finger, coiling the ribbon delicately, folding in circles, binding onto her flesh…over her diamond ring, standing to face his master for worship. The blue devil took one last gaze at the female who was irreplaceable. The gold lighter glinting in his hands as he moseyed. Flicking and observing the gold flame glimmer. It would be the source of all his memories of her, to succumb. The flame flickering, he curved his hand over, scorching his flesh…feeling numb. He couldn't do this. The thought was horrifying.

Eva viewed a sleeping angel that would rouse from her slumber. The trimming wrapped around her finger flashed and sparkled...setting the bed sheets ablaze. The drapes were next to catch fire, along with her hair. Vergil backed into the wall, shocked, dropping the lighter. Fingers crumbling the foundations, unable to take his eyes off his own replication as it enthused towards him like a poignant shadow, concealing the gruesome view from his indignant sights. Mato enclosed his lids with icy hands so he couldn't watch Eva's flesh burning. Seemingly unaffected by the fires, asserting into his quaking figure to steady his shakes, casing his ears so he couldn't hear his own petrifying screams, initiating its decline into his flesh…palliative and analgesic. Vergil was hushed. Yamato resonated Sparda's teachings, giving him everlasting hope.

"Transit ambra, lux permanet", Mato promised by a light peck to his lips, cold.

Blood tears were trailing his face..."Eva".

Nero was astonished as they smeared against his jaw.

Dante panicked, "Verge?!"

The blue devil freed his eyes. A child of barely two had undertaken his mother's cremation, all alone. They had always been akin but this singular recognition was piercing. He unconsciously concluded their far-reaching sphere by kissing Nero's lips that was spreading his tears clumsily. He had never seen Vergil like this, forgetting his own pain for the one he treasured, extending their kiss.

Leon was worried for all three, trying to console, as best as he could but even he advanced to kissing Vergil's bleeding eyes who permitted his grazes, one hand squeezing the teen's shaky shoulder for support who gripped his in retort. The heart-broken hunter seized his twin's bears that restored his over the hybrids. Vergil had been absent once but this loop was finally complete, restoring their temples as they drew closer to each other, solaced. The youth spun his head towards his mother as they sustained to hold the lilies. She had known he would return and she had known he would be supplemented.

Her son beamed, "my...my brothers" with an innocent smile.

The indigo infernos burst; bequeathing their single spirit, tears stolen…hearts overcome...viewing the world for its rare perfections. They were all that existed and all that would remain. Nero entered each man's lungs, penetrating their souls...replenishing with surmount equanimity. They were one with the living, breathing universe. This is exactly where they belonged. His supremacies were ever-increasing and his renovation was almost complete. A paper wing struck his lips, unlocking his eyes to find an outburst of moving colour...a moving marvel.

Uncountable monarch butterflies were swirling their longed-for presence. They too had embarked this journey, drawn to the bearer of light. They knew once submersed in his essence they could make any death-defying expedition. The Saviour was increasing their life by a hundred years, even more so, for the oblivious men that were a part of his elite sphere. They all viewed, wide-eyed, absorbed by the aerobatic ballerinas…enchanting and dream-like. The bounces of their soft flutter and sway leaving them awed.

Dante's merriment exploded, improper. One was inactive over his brother's nose making him hysterical. Vergil's eyes had crisscrossed dangerously at the bravery of the insect, which fluttered its wings to brag. Leon was measuring his tresses knowing they had altered...again, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. Dante caressed his strands and nod his head grimly as they lost out to the remote whites. Chris would notice for sure...great.

Nero felt a hand grip his cheek, turning to the person holding his face. "Neri" she whispered emerging amid their flurry, exactly as he remembered her. The most beautiful woman he had ever known was his mother. The sight of her leaving him perplexed as she floated down onto her knees and apprehended his abdomen. Her delicate child had grown tremendously into a handsome and capable man…set to rule all the dominions.

"Found you", she whispered.

Nero stared, tentatively touching her face. He had dreamed about her every day. Her son whispered the only word's he had ever known, every time he had contemplated her.

"I love you" his cry.

Her smile extended, embracing him into her arms. He lowered his crown over his mother's heart, accepting his re-embodiment. The unseen shackles he had borne all his life were freed inside his mother's spirit...cured of all past hurt. Leon was right she would forever remain a part of him, for love, was everlasting and enduring. This world hadn't broken his spirit and never would. His talons slipped into his mother's tresses which slid away from his gasp as she arose amongst the flurry of teeming colours, clutching his shoulders, her dress, her eyes, her hair, replicating their tints...disguising her figure amid their fragile beauty. Her hands elevated to cup her sons face. Nero's metamorphosis was entire.

"Your home…my sweet child, your home" was her restful departure.

The butterflies had their fill of his light, rising away from his vigorous devil arm towards the care of the trees as evening advanced. The sun was beautifully setting. Everything suffused gold in its serene light or feasibly his incarnate sparks. This was heaven on earth...a place of absolute flourish.

Leon was watching the monarch rainbow as a few stragglers hovered by, tickling his ear, "was that real?"

Vergil scrubbed his nose, "they are migrating. I suspect they will all make the journey".

They weren't the only ones. The forest was conscious, the grass, the leaves, the flowers the roots…all renewing. This was an oasis of life. Nero was the gushing fountain. Dante made his way to edge of the lake, placing his flower over her grave. It was shimmering. He knew the floret would never decease, reinvigorated by her son's heart. Leon was next arranging his beside Dante's who whacked his head with the purple blossom. Leon procured it and shoved him back, pleased as he landed on his ass. The elder was the last to pay his respects, resting the Lillie beside his brother's, touching the tips of the earth. She had gained three additional sons.

Vergil pledged "we will always watch over him…mother".

All mothers merited the highest esteem.

Nero lifted the hood to cover his head…incredulous with mounting joy as he crouched beside Vergil, kissing his hand and placing his blossom to the soil. 

"I love you" he reverted.

Dante slipped his arm about his shoulder and clasped his head tightly, making him chuckle quietly. Leon removed his hood and ruffled his hair equally, sitting closer to the lake. Throwing down his jacket and laying down on top. The fires held serenity and they were feeling the full effects. Creation overhead was boundless, unrestrained...and circling. He could have sworn he was watching a cataract of shooting stars…lost in space. Vergil had left without a word. Dante glanced...agitated.

Nero rose, "do you believe in happy endings old man?"

The hunter tugged his mane, making him smirk, knowing it was growing to his taste. "I promise you…even if there is no such things I will damn make sure you have one".

The youth's talons glided his hair, the luminosity from his arm and eyes making Dante close his.

Nero kissed his lips, letting them delay in his warmth. "I never knew Vergil held so much pain".

Dante kissed tenderly, "he's been through…" accepting guilt, "hell and back, like you".

The teen had sensed Vergil didn't want them to know about these closed memories' of Eva. This was between the brothers. 

"Bring him back" entreating softly.

The hunter glanced at the snoozing blonde who was lolling harmoniously, "keep the officer company, wouldn't want him to get bored stiff", vanishing to fulfil his wish.

Nero strode and lay down beside Leon, without notice. This playground was plentiful. There was nothing like it. This was their home, peering over the glassy lake, the full moon illuminating the cordial landscape with unbelievable silver, sitting upright when he detected movement. A huge wolf stepped out of the edge of the forest and seated with poise on the other side of the bank. The shimmering pelt made of untainted snow, one eye afire, the other badly mutilated. Blue flames were immersing his fur. The shocked teen thoughtlessly reached out with his bringer to see if he was real. The volatile spark was shooting across the waters quickly taking the silhouette of a falcon, the fastest flyer. The wolf guided his stare behind him, disappearing before his sons light could reach him again.

"No"…his heart vied, dashing straight into the waters, getting snarled in the flowering shrubs, not preventing. Ripping through it and rapidly trying to swim to the other side. The cold water deepened in depths. He had never learned how to swim. Stranded and dipping frantically, wheezing, he went underneath. Holding his breathes, panicked, and rushing towards the light, hysterically breaching the water's surface. He was sat trembling in the bathtub, wrists draining harshly, hair cluttering the floor, lumps of it in his clamped fists. What is real…? You just wanted to meet her…remember. Did you really think you could make it...escape who you are? His devil emerged from the blood-spattered waters, flesh afire. Nero locked his eyes and screamed. When he opened them again he was standing on a pillar of serrated rocks. The ocean waves were breaking backwards, terrified. He gripped the shell in his hands urgently which splintered.

The seated hunter versed coldly, "did you really think I would share my love, with you" eyes critical with rejection.

Nero shook uncontrollably as Vergil bathed beside him. He slid down the walls…hands hopelessly empty...where was he…eyes wide-open, rocking back and forth? Dante's hands curled about Vergil's waist drawing him into his skin. They both sighed low. Yearning hands trailed his steaming skin, leaving it badly shredded. The distraught teen trembled as he contemplated the dripping blood. This wasn't Dante. A vicious claw curled above Vergil's heart, his bloody devil recited the apparent.

"Let me remind you of what you have forgotten", tunnelling into the blue devil's chest to illustrate his beating hearts, "we only have each other" tearing it apart.

He was spinning out of time.

Dante was smiling at him as he spun the merry-go-round, hurtling out of control, "do you believe in happy endings kid?"

Akira penetrated his entrance, "sit still devil and it will be over quickly".

Vergil was watching from the bunk, revolted, "you have never been good enough" the denunciation.

The baton struck his plagued face, he crashed against the wall.

Robertson raised but someone held him back, "Sir...I think he's had enough" compassionate.

The pleasant blonde crouched, he wasn't wearing a name badge, "you alright?"

"Leon", he bade consciousness. He was trapped below the seams of all his baseless fears, water filling his burning lungs, losing air.

Nero was dying but wanted to live…he had finally found, what he had been so desperately searching for...love.

"Do you believe in happy endings…" reverberating, smiling and sinking.

He did, concluding his nodding eyes by evoking their beaming faces as they laid the blossoms over his mother's grave…drowning.


	31. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Latin: "Omnia vincit, et nos cedamus amori" - "Love conquers all things, so we too shall yield to love." The beautiful lines by the poet Virgil/Vergil: Eclogues. How I wish our tempestuous world would integrate this philosophy.

"Leon…" was the heart wrenching call.

The drowsy blonde unlaced his senses to find a dripping child hunkering beside him, hands tightly clasping his knees, juddering.

"Help…" the toddler shivered.

Leon's stunned eyes unlocked, assembling in alarm, sitting up vigilantly to watch the equivocal undulations. The stagnant lake had been disturbed, lugging off his boots wildly and dashing into the liquids...diving, without rational. The misty waters obscure, he was helpless to perceive there true depths, body fraught for air. Whirling up rapidly for respires.

"Nero" he cried, circling, losing his nerve.

Taking lungs full of life and pitching beneath, arms gliding, legs boosting in the bearing of a delicate glimmer. It was Nero's dwindling light, propelling his bulk into the cloudy pits, reaching out for his unconscious hands. Head tilt back, colourless face upright...Nero was dying as they plummeted together. Airways constricting, body in agony, out of oxygen. Leon sustained, his hands reaching for Nero's fingernails which scraped his, reeling and strained as he courageously plunged closer to grip his devil arm, wrapping tightly and swimming hurriedly, uphill, with what little strength he had held in reserve. Lightheaded as he reached the water's surface, gasping loudly, holding Nero about his torso and puffing cripplingly, towing his heavy figure to coast, dragging him out of the water's. Leon checked his pulse, zilch…scared stiff.

"Don't you dare…die on me" while balancing his hands to drive his heart, employing mouth to mouth, with quaking jaws.

"Come on!" He anxiously murmured.

Nero spat warmish water onto his face, convulsing, eyes astonished.

Leon collapsed on top of him, from exertion, as they convalesced together from their diminutive encounter with death, sputtering, coughing and choking.

"Should...never sleep...on the job, huh, not with you guys around!" Cranky and winded, rolling over on his back exhausted. "Never swim with your boots…on" the recommended tip and obvious cause of the youth's precocious sinking.

Nero's chest was exerted, "I...I can't…swim", requesting for understanding for his tactless activities.

Leon speculated "…why did you jump…!" thrown.

Nero stammered, "I t-thought...I saw a...a wolf" teeth noising.

Leon's choppers joined in, chattering. Unsure what to say to that comeback, brain indefinite, body dictating. "Want to use your flames…don't want to freeze to death out here".

Nero rotated, reaching for his arm and setting it on fire with his heady purple flames. Still out of it.

Leon scrambled and plunged his limb into the waters before he could burn to death, face speckled with mud, glancing at the teen with dumbfounded eyes. How was Vergil handling these two, alone, was laudable to say the least.

"Sorry", the adolescence grumbled incoherently. Crawling to the edge and dropping his face into the cold liquids to clear his bewildered mind.

All he could realize was the image of the wolf and those deceptive nightmares. The fabricated delusions he could overlook, they weren't real. But how could he forget the imprint of that fur or his father's human skin which had been even warmer…how? Leon lifted him away from danger before he could drown, all over again. Nero looked like he had just seen a ghost, gripping him lightly into a sedentary position, removing his uninhabitable boots and socks. The jeans and hoodie tracked. The adolescence continued to watch the opposite bank like he wasn't in attendance, figure trembling. Leon shed his wringing clothes, uneasily. Unlike them he wasn't used to being bare. Taking his dry leather jacket and slipping it about the teens shoulders who sat cross-legged. Longing eyes never leaving the deserted spot…his father was gone, but his shadow lingered in stab. Leon busied himself with getting a fire started with the dropped brushwood and leaves.

"Never attended a boy scouts in my life" trying to interest the absent youth, giving it a shot nonetheless, rubbing the sticks together when they spurt into flames.

Nero glided his rickety devil arm.

Leon tossed the left over twigs, "thanks" with a simper.

He knew something had resulted but didn't want to push the adolescence to chat, getting some much needed warmth back in his shocked fingers, rubbing his hands briskly when the silent teen erected, looming over him, with a sleek leg on each side. This prearrangement had befallen Leon in penitentiary but this time Nero mounted and wrapped him kindly, laying his wet head onto his trunk for security...acutely troubled, trying to disremember everything…quietening in appease. The only authenticity was this survival, this endurance, this gentle instant. Those dying hallucinations were nothing but the last of his fears he had shed long ago. He had faith he would never be abandoned by his brothers…never.

The receiving blonde instinctively laid his head on top, embracing the adolescence who gathered cosily within, wrapped apiece, physiques acquiring the needed warmth, their shivers settling despite their moist skins. The flames flickering as Leon stroked Nero's clammy hair. He stayed hushed. Devil arm somewhat cool and smooth wrapped about his abdomen. The blonde had handled it before, browsing inquisitively, involved. Considerately holding Nero closer whose warm breathes circled his heart, eyes shut, he finally spoke.

"I think I saw my...father", chest sensing moisture.

Nero partitioned his face, lips quivering, "I saw…" the cry, "him".

Leon palmed his cheek, "he wouldn't have turned up, if he didn't plan to meet you right?"

Doubting if they were still debating a wolf? If they were…no wonder he had left.

Nero swallowed "I want to...meet him" edging tighter in pain.

"I want to ask him…why, why he left us to…die" unveiling all his stifled sorrows.

Leon clutched tightly, consoling, adjusting the covering to shelter the teens face who didn't want to be seen crying. What could he possibly say, silent. The soft luminosity striking their skins as he lay down onto the freezing grassland, grimacing. Nero curled his arms beneath, so he wouldn't touch it, raising his head and mounting, sloping above the blonde's lips, deep puffs greeting. A light contact was pressed over his mouth. The fledgling was expressing his gratitude to his other Godparent for rescuing him.

"I...called you", he whispered "you were the one, who always came to...save me first" the loving acknowledgement.

Leon relieved, inelegantly kissing Nero's lips sympathetically. Their qualities were indulgent, warm and tantalizing. Nero refunded temperately, tongues feeling with riffles and skims, gradually ringing, digging to examine these new premises with temperate feats, bodies twisting and tightening, crafting vibrations all over in unpolluted emotions. How could he break away? Nero was leaving him winded. Mortal chest constrained into his, reminding, he needed to respire…the teen releasing with an endearing smile. Leon pants before grazing Nero's temple as he lowered his head back to his trunk. The kiss they just shared matched Dante's a little too well.

"Nap, I'll wake you when they get back, think you need it", rubbing his squelchy hair to dry it between his vicarious tips.

The surrendering youth stretched his legs, inch by inch, interleaving tightly between him. Leon's heat was the essential blanket he had needed to calm down. He was growing fatigued, body parched…labouring rest. Heavy eyes subsiding into subterranean sleep, "thank…you", he wafted affectionately, slumbering.

The chilled blonde studied him, "never thought you would be even more trouble." They had practically died and he had only been with Nero a few seconds, guessing where the twins had moved out. Viewing the searing beacon and wrapping the youth unshakably, he had a bad feeling since they divided.

"Dante", he sighed in mounting unease.

Vergil was viewing his reflection in the insignificant creek, stirring the waters with his fingers, twisting it, remaining to wash his blood stained face. He had exposed his weakness in front of them, overcome by her memories, feeling resentment over his feeble conduct, leaning his head, "brother?"

Dante had tracked him and was watching quietly, head sunk in humiliation, "hey" the forged cheerful greet, dropping.

"I should have been there…with you…Mato huh?"

Regretful and envious…Mato was above all other weapons and even him.

"I let you down", distrait.

"I've always been a fucking coward…should have been there with you" the heart-breaking remorse.

Vergil endured bowed, "it was my affliction. I earn to carry this burden, alone", penalised coldly.

Dante undressed his shirt, bending. Dipping the clean portion in the cool watercourse and scouring his brothers face.

"I'm sorry" letting his tears rise and fall, "it won't happen again. I'll never let you down…I swear".

Vergil seized his wrist, lips tautened, "go back" summarily standing.

Dante dropped his shirt, observing the rivulet "why?" He supposed wretchedly, plunging his fingers and splashing the water straight at his doubles face. There was no going back. He could never let Vergil go as his lover and had already made up his mind about defiling him completely. He was destined for hell and yet asked God for his mercy…an aggrieved devil was asking his maker for forgiveness.

The elder looked down crossly, drenched. "I won't ask again" bad-tempered, "go".

Dante hoisted, "y' think I haven't noticed" slipping his dripping fingers around his neck. "None of the rules apply to me and…you" watchful. "Let me…mark you Verge?" Was the excruciating accountability he wanted consent for?

Vergil held his indiscreet hands, "leave me", stepping away, keeping his distance, on brinks.

Dante grinned stirring closer, "no", enclosing Vergil's waist that stiffened at the cherished statement. Heartfelt hands drew his skin, slipping the vest to capture his chest, lips descending his collar, setting his flesh tingling. Wet hands gathering his mane into their perfect place…fixed in adore. The low excruciating voice delivered into his hearing.

"Did y' know, that I have loved you from the day I took my first breathe…inside you?"

Sighed "your all I've ever known, wanted to know, but it's never enough…why…?"

Vergil's jaw scrunched as Dante twisted his face to kiss his lips repetitively. One-sided and bias says re-saying.

"I always ruin…what I love, the most, am fucked up" fingers determining his rims. "Let me...inside you", throbbing, "inside you, just this once, it's only fair…?"

Vergil perceived remotely. "I didn't ask for your idiotic confession. I want you…gone", adamant and unyielding. Exiling with a push, "do as I ask, without question…" incensed.

Dante unheeded…pursuing, insistent. When was the last time Vergil had prohibited him, he couldn't even remember? A ghost blade sped past carving his cheek, skin haemorrhaged to discourage his undesirable advances. Dante flinched and caressed the scuff, licking his blood, teleporting in front of his exiting twin when he felt a spiteful perforation setting into his chest. A phantom sword was immovable between them.

"Don't", Vergil's eyes alternating crimson, scrunching.

The hunter smirked and detained his neck, pushing the one he loved, with all his being, into his build, the rapier spiking his flesh, from end to end. The disaffected blue devil stared at his bloody hands. Dante was draining ominously, intentionally not curing his perforation. The vane shattered as the elder pressed down on the cause, to stop the stab of its flow.

Dante hankered with worn-out eyes, "your cuts, always hurt like a bitch, make me feel better…kiss me" still transfixing his neck, asserting him in place.

Vergil snatched the front of his hair viciously with his free hand, "heal" enraged.

The persevering twin chuckled, "kiss me first…" circling with cogent lips.

Vergil pulled, "why must you test my lenience?" 

Tormented by what was about to partake. He was going to hit rock-bottom, confining his viciousness and temper within to shield his twin from his dreadful fury and suspicions…for another was watching.

The hunter weakened, "I rather die…than go back to how things were…before…I can't", the self-disclosure. The urgency real, still expelling blood "so kiss me" touching lips, distributing warm saliva.

Vergil stood stock-still. Competing with his brother had always been demanding but the kiss never befell from his resentful lips. 

Dante's breathing was uneven as he removed Vergil's hand from his wound to enclose their textures, his infinity was this touch, "than watch me die Verge…in your arms. It's all I want…just…let me die".

Vergil's chest constricted, kissing his siblings lips inhumanely, "you hunger...only for my flesh" the malicious snarl.

Belittling cruelly by slitting Dante's mouth, leaving him riddled with bites and cuts, as he stood fearless, mutely accepting all his fury, sullenness and hatred, with intrepid commitment. Vergil was severe in his conduct. The hunter was the only one who could weather his bad temper, patient and resolute as blood oozed over his skin and onto the earth. He wouldn't be the one to give in. As predicted, it was Vergil who ultimately faltered, for he was fighting a losing battle, caving in and discontinuing his physical assaults to revisit his sibling's abrasions in sheer misery…sketching the slashes in gut-wrenching pain.

"Dante, why must you…" shut his eyes in overthrow…"how can you?"

By what method could he deny what he had surreptitiously observed? Dante didn't love anyone else more than him…not Eva or Sparda. The thought horrified him, for it was complete madness. Dante's love was truly startling. Was it possible to be loved to this extent? How could he go back to what he once was, when he himself had changed so drastically? Love was an illness with no cure. They were destined to its poisonous potencies, disease-ridden and putrefying...lone. How was it that all reason, logic and lucidity would crumble into uproar? The hunter kissed him with his battered mouth, nudging his face side to side?

"It's alright Verge, am with you…with you", shaking, conflicted and hopelessly frightened.

Dante weakened to his knees when he could no longer stand, ignoring his strenuous gash, to unfasten Vergil's buckles, dipping enough to slip out his brother's lifeless affiliate. He gazed upwards and took him into his mouth, twisting a muscular arm about his forelegs, so he couldn't run. Dante was frantic and so was Vergil, slanting his head in sorrow as his twin guzzled and slurped. He was trying to breathe life into the dormant muscle which didn't react to his obsessions. Tongue sliding out, trailing and probing the flesh towards hotness and frenzy; his unruly soul, jaggedly pulling the pants lower to get deeper entree, swallowing, refusing to let go. Vergil gazed down in hurting and loss, fingers seizing Dante's tresses as his body involuntarily retorted to the pleasuring…lungs avid, voice signalling a short groan. The bellow was divulging his dwindling resistance to penchant deeds.

Dante dragged him under, holding. Hands determinedly secured…eyes zealous. The red devil's lips were still dripping with plasma which he smeared over his twins rims so he would swallow to commence their sacramental vows. Pushing his tongue inside when he was deprived of, drawing Vergil's lips hard enough to leave him puffing, hand shredding his vest and skin, sliding lower to yank away the russet pants, unzipping his to pull out his hard member. Their white flesh covered in kinship and dirt. Low moans huffing, bodies pumping heat as they struggled amid interwoven desires.

Vergil could never fend off Dante or challenge these penetrating sentiments. It was like being trapped inside a never-ending labyrinth. He could run but never truly escape. Dante would always find him. His brother freed his hands and scaled his frame, lips and mouth surging over his nipples, piercing and rasping between his fangs, weight crushing…restraining him, they flushed. Receptive and throbbing muscles were connecting, twitching and jerking where they rubbed joint flesh. Vergil quaked as Dante tested his entry with unsteady digits. He wanted to immerse inside the man that had made him insane. This was the only logical route. Adamant cock rose, skimming and suspending in distressing misery, vacantly gazing outward, warm tears spilling on Vergil's abdominal as he sunk his face to lick his navel and secrete his face.

Vergil knew why his twin was abruptly weeping. It was the reason he had tried so hard to drive him away. Somebody else was witnessing their affirmations with pungent judgements as they gripped one another tightly. This man's burgeoning fragrance could never remain secreted from either of them. For every differing step he had taken had all been for their welfare and preservation.

The dark knight had made adversaries in all domains, for he was responsible for the worst kind of eccentricity and deviation. Loving a mortal was stringently illicit. Their children should never have been born, for such unification, was the ultimate abomination. The intolerable had befallen, for a mortal had wed a devil. Demonic anarchy was no different of that of the mortal realm. Fear of the unknown was to be modestly crushed, without penitence. For hybrid blood was bigotry of the highest order. Sparda had known his family would be victimised but losing Eva had been the convincing factor. He was on the road to eliminating his adversaries, once and for all. Destroying all the invisible Hell Gates excluding the one secreted in these purified woodlands. It was where the real war was about to originate, to purge the underworld of its satanic emperor and replace him with an impartial one.

Nero was ready to govern as the equitable saviour. He had always been the key and the heir to this seat. Even if it meant the carnage was to spill into the human realm, so be it. War was war, peace absence of it. Nero was the foretelling and their trump card to ensure swift annihilation, one more hybrid, tallying three out of billions. It was the child's unending struggles and self-destruction tendencies to find his true identity that had made this passage so very unpredictable. Perceptive his sons were the only one's resistant enough to turn his life around. If Nero was the inexorable force than his boy's would substantiate to be the permanent objects.

This voyage had been long but this get-together envisioned and pieced like a game of chess. Sparda knew they would make it. The prophecy had been fulfilled against all probabilities. He was certain of his children's aptitudes and unpredictable imperfections, overpoweringly trusting all his strategies, reliance and perseverance on Vergil's accomplished shoulders that now lay stripped before him. He had imagined every situation, every twist, every turn…except this.

Vergil advocated "he will never forgive…us".

If they continued this sexual act they would fall in Sparda's eyes. He was the hideous plague that had blackened his father's soul by killing Eva and now was taking his son away, ending their family. Wondering why his mother had been the one to depart this life when it should have been rightfully him. This was not how he had imagined they would meet their father again having learned of his whereabouts.

Dante elevated his crown and started to kiss the sides of his ribs making O's. "I love you" he stated faintly. 

"I don't want to hide my feelings...for you, let him see this, he needs to know" insolent, wayward and truly rebellious. The reason he had been so rightfully gifted Rebel.

The hunter stimulated his entrance and took the plunge. Vergil's fingernails tore his flesh in shock, shutting his eyes in degradation and pain. They were one. Tears dwindled Dante's eyes in equal suffering, he didn't want Vergil to take the fall, not this time. Sparda had to know he was the basis of this transgression, thrusting into taboo warmth, grousing penetratingly, trembling fingers seizing his brother's cock which he fondled more and more, earning his father's ill-disposed scrutiny.

Sparda was standing just a few feet away but he had never been so disconnected. He hadn't changed, more striking than the two of them joint, grander physique, heightened features…a full-fledged devil. Clad in an immaculate white shirt, luxurious black pants and trench coat…perfect. He had no human defects, platinum wedding band polished. Sparda had never removed it, for it was an enduring reminder. That he still held himself answerable for Eva's death, the factual reason for his continued absence. It had taken him a long time to come face to face with his son's, for failing their household. The fault had been superseding, despite the fact he craved to be closer to them. Even-tempered sadness as he observed his children with quiet anxiety. A parent was examining his vulnerable, defenceless and frail offspring from a distance. If Vergil was hard to read Sparda was an enigma.

Blue flames lambent about his figure as a wolf hurdled out of a sphere-shaped gateway. Nero's father de-triggered, upright towering Sparda, unclothed. Nero had just learned how to master forms with his bringer, to appear as one he had a very long way to go. Raijin's mellifluous mane was falling past his trim waist, scars sheathing his left eye, a lengthier one succeeding his resounding chest. Sparda wasn't the only one who had come under violence for the exact same deviations and equivalent losses. Allies were few and far between but the gentleman beside him was the incentive for why they had congregated today and had been working together behind the scenes. Raijin contemplated Sparda like an apparition before turning his courtesy towards them as they spurred to make love opposite fear-provoking spectators.

Dante deepened his sighs, driving firmly, biting Vergil's neck to commit his mark, rasping his shoulders, downing blood…the merger. Heavy respires raging for he was about to elicit, his devil was triggered. Vergil's challenged, triggering simultaneously, claws, wings, and fangs, malicious as the rubicund devil enacted heavy wounds on the cobalt who was growling fiercely. This was the only time he would tolerate this domination and control, bleeding tongues licking the scales to devour the dripping elixir, de-triggering. Human forms enclosed in humid secretions and gore but neither men climaxing. The hunter's chest shook with irrepressible tears, cracking under pressure and failing onto his sibling's chest, jeans still tousled about his knees.

"W-why the fuck…can't I do…anything…right" the virulent cry.

Vergil's steady hands cupped his brother's laboured face, streaking his tears, locating his head onto his trunk so he could overhear their impressive beats.

He professed, "brother, do you not hear it beat…for you?" Lifting his sibling's jaw, "come into me", pressing their lips together, "into me..." bussing with effectiveness, inspiring their lunges by thrusting. Dependable arms were taking Dante's unstable frame into his being that seized him urgently as if he was dying. Vergil took the burden to complete what Dante couldn't, hands clinching his hips assertively.

"I love you" he accepted intimately.

The hunter erupted with powerful insets, hooked on his inner, teeth grinding as they lay engulfed, swinging back and forth in jagged aches and urges, moaning forbidden names.

"Vergil", he loved, as he envisioned his flushed image inside his twin's protective gaze.

How could he ever give this up? The remits stultified…all he could see, taste and breathe was Vergil. The two lay fixed in unfathomable desires, climaxing loudly in guttural orgasms, discharging semen. Vergil's neck was tarnished by Rebellion which seized his perfect skin. Dante kissed his face all over in dangerous happiness. Vergil's seed had spilled between their flattened bodies, casing. They mutually stared at their father with bated breaths. The mysterious man beside him looked astonishingly like their precious companion. They instantly liked him, eloquent of whom he was. But it was the one with orange sapphire's that caught their breathless vigilance.

Azazel was glancing over his adoptive father's shoulder, having arrived late to the bash, utterly spellbound by their perfume, blood and gorgeous flesh. It was his first image of other crossbreeds and he had never imagined it would be this superb, pulling out his mobile from the confines of his blue jeans and taking a portrait of the doubles. The uncanny flash lighting up the dark as he saved their snapshot as his home and lock screen. The black hair was in fact coloured to conceal his snow-white, making the tally four. The only difference was that it was his father who was presently chairing hell and had been the one ordering the killings of other crossbreeds and their mothers.

This deceitfulness and dishonesty had resulted in his human mother's expiration so that his daddy could cover his own spineless and straying tracks. Azazel was exultant to service his dad's homicide having learned about his duplicity. He had also been busy amassing an assortment of weaponries, including biologics, for this steadfast cause, just in case other demons were dumb enough to oppose their meticulously planned revolution. Most had already been disposed of in the confines of the underground facility so no one would even notice. If they did Umbrella Corporation would take the blame and fall. Daddy dearest had no idea he was about to be fucked from all sides. Front and rear. Sparda and Raijin was the only father figure's he wanted and needed.

"Holy fuck…that was…hot" tongue piercing sparkling as he drooled, tapping Raijin's bear with his black nails, "you fit right in" optimistically addressing the exposed nudity.

Raijin eyed him censoriously. There was something imposing in his reserve and behaviour. Unlike the youth who resembled a delinquent, which he was…leather jacket, black inked tattoos and piercings all appropriate.

Sparda stepped away gripping Azazel with him who was noticeably staggered by his unexpected verdict to leave. This wasn't part of the said strategy. Raijin trailed unquestionably. Sparda had made his pronouncement. He didn't want anything to do with them, not anymore, not after witnessing this filthy act. Vergil restored his head on the forgiving ground as his tears glided, sinking down his face to water the grime, hands gliding for his father who paused but elected to walk away.

Vergil despised being exact….Sparda could never agree to this love, wanting to yell at the top of his lungs in his dejection, but in its place comforting Dante who was crying hysterically. He had been the one to stain him and held himself accountable. This reunification had been fouled because of him, by this love, by his existence. Their father had turned his back on them in cold denunciation. In the end, they had miscarried, badly. Dante was grief-stricken. Vergil decided to tell him a saga so that he may sleep. It would be a tale dedicated to the legendary Dark Knight. What he had done? What he had lost? Why he had waited this long to see them again? This would be the passage of Sparda's heroic struggles and excursions to lead and guide them all here, with the few clues he had left behind, prior to his desertion.

Vergil enforced his wavering figure to sit upright, obtaining Dante who was jammed between his legs, forcing his head to repose on his hardened chest. Dante didn't fight, closing his waist firmly, as he smeared his damp nose and eyes with the back of his hands, rocking his body, back and forth, to quiet his cries. Nurturing fingers calming and soothing his tangled tresses, murmuring into his ear, "Sparda…" stumbling…his speech wasn't stable, modifying. Vergil began the story from the beginning with their mother Eva. Dante pried silently, figure trembling, getting drowsy, silently falling asleep before it was concluded, leaving him to cry in isolated sorrow, clutching the sleeping devil in unspeakable hurting. They had been abandoned, orphaned and omitted once more. What they had lost today was unsurpassed.

The silent elder gathered his afflictions with faltering steps and made it back towards the lake where they had just savoured paradise, coming out to the calmative glades to a warmly struck fire. Nero and Leon were both slumbering when they received his imminent footfalls. Leon raised the covers and gaped at Vergil's filthy arrival, still gripping Dante who synchronised his appearance, locating him smoothly onto the green surface, sedentary alongside his body, faraway. Leon hurried over, disturbed as he gazed into Vergil's empty eyes, inspecting his chest covered in fresh blood and mud. What had happened to them?

The awakened youth stirred to the elder's assistance, studying his bleeding neckline where a tattoo was blistering his skin. Nero knew it belonged to Dante, learning his brother's obsessive mark. The old man had attained the finishing contour to make sure Vergil belonged to them, for perpetuity. This was the final sign to close their intimate circle, osculating to cool the cutting, the filth, blood, and tears sullying his clean lips. Nero absorbed all, gradually situating his head onto his torso, draping him in the luminosities of his soporific devil arm. Vergil was shattered.

The loving teen caressed his lips to inhale all his discomforts, making them his, to understand the root of his aching, fully comprehending it. Vergil's eyes flickered inside the detentions of a devoted heart and what a tremendous heart it was. Nero was the redeemer. His destiny had always been to decree each realm, by accepting his devil. It hadn't been easy but they had managed to convince him. The adolescence was better matched for this certain role.

Sparda had known, all along, Vergil would have made for a much crueller, harsher and fiercer tyrant. Many demons would still favour brutality over curing, thus his popularity to be their preferred leader. He stopped thinking when the hybrid safeguarded his incapacitated soul, with illimitable love. The youth was kissing him, the burning embers in-flowing. All Nero sought after was to push Vergil into peaceful slumber, reiterating, none of this had ever really mattered to him. Voice gently arose as the blue devil bowed his crown over the youth's stately chest.

"I will bring them...to you. They can't leave us again. I won't…let them", strong-minded and unbendable, eyes incisively bloody.

"So please…rest", kissing Vergil's muddied brows inflexibly.

"Sleep" body-hugging the elders as his respire stabilised slowly, kneeling in slumber.

Nero endlessly gazed at his sleeping look, when Leon held his shoulder.

"Go. I'll take care of them. Remind me never to split up" his typical unperturbed self.

The adolescence relaxed Vergil beside Dante, tipping over his lips to blow a torrent of healing flames into the red devil's lungs, inducing and demonstrative. He didn't want the hunter to awaken while he was away. Standing up and cupping Leon's face as he witnessed. Nero's voice was hoarser, hands gliding over the extraordinary silver he had justly gifted the blonde.

"I would only ever leave them, with you", smiling.

Leon observed wide-eyed as the youths wings arose from his expansive shoulders. Their colours and distance was spectacular, exacting his devil arm, "they can't run" the inevitability. Nero flew into the morose night without deferment beholding an angel.

Leon budged Dante aggressively who rolled over onto his face, struggling to lie down between them, taking the vexing package into his arms. "Stupid asshole, why can't you just be happy..." worried sick and pissed, settling his big head on his nape, hugging steadily, testing his wounds which had mercifully mended thanks to the flames.

The governing blonde extended his other arm beneath Vergil's neck and heaved him respectfully into his empty side, minus the verbal abuse. Their cheeks damp, making his heart stitch, muddied forms cased in body fluids, smearing his unblemished skin. He didn't care, guarding them with his life, focused hands stashed inside their locks. Enquiring where the new horizon was…gazing into the woods.

"Nero" he figured.

The young devil was chasing the men that had rejected them for the second time, with viciousness, roaring deafeningly, the scream dispensing earthquakes. Autumn leaves freeing, floating down like hail. Azazel caught a few, whistling loudly, as he lounged on a tree enjoying a cigarette. "He's mad" shaping hearts with his puffs. Elated, he would get to bump into Nero too, keeping watch as Sparda and Raijin perused the remaining Hell Gate. It was a stone arch covered in foliage, reading the symbols to activate the portal when Raijin smiled making Sparda sigh severely.

"He is coming" enunciating modestly of his son's incursion.

Sparda uninvolved a vine, "my commiserations, it appears your son has been marked…by them. I had no warning that boys would be this difficult to handle".

"I would have wished for daughters had I known".

Inaccurate, Sparda would have suffered a heart attack by now if he had daughter's to contend with, including Demonic pregnancies.

Raijin stooped delineating the olden ciphers, "they have a mortal child who also bears their mark".

"Mixed blood is rare, which may explain their carnal lures for one another, but how does a human fit into all this? The multifarious markings are improbable?"

Sparda engaged a hand covering his face in open frustration, "you seem to be taking this rather well" amazed.

Raijin could hear Nero's untouchable wings, "I only seek my son's happiness, from what I have observed he is contented in your children's company. 

"It is all that matters to me Sparda. My absence has been the cause of his suffering, including his mothers, their presence his resilience. I do not desire to take it away".

"Your sons are still commendable in my regards" the quiet approval.

Sparda rang the encryptions. The arch sifting the stone blocks, "I do not remember my household being this…dysfunctional. I have reared them as human children…not per Eva's wishes but my own. To think my biggest apprehension when I had left them alone was prenatal developments".

"Is it so much to ask for? An ordinary family as it once was and should be. One I know?"

Raijin contemplated the gloomy night, "devils are far from ordinary. Their bond with you rests that of a child with a parent, inviolate. They will forever remain your progenies regardless of the right or wrong paths they take for themselves", the straightforward insightfulness.

Azazel hung upside down from the tree flashing his screensaver and cheekily supporting Raijin, "no wonder I couldn't find a mate, an orgasm of this capacity can only chance between hybrids", tugging his earing in immediate awareness, regretting why he hadn't made a video of the doubles. It would have been superlative jerking material, unwittingly lovesick?

Sparda ignored Azazel, disgruntled, "I know this is Dante's doing but I expected better of Vergil" the tangible reason for his disappointment.

Raijin conveyed "your son was converted, like mine. Your anger is judicious but leaving them like this is the severest manner of punishment".

"They both love and esteem you, Vergil even more so" the neutral reflection.

Sparda rotated his ring, a habit Azazel had cultured, "some matters necessitate severe retribution. I cannot pardon this".

The purple gateway was vivacious. The entry was open. The singular remaining route into hell was theirs to take.

"I will finish this single-handedly, without their succour, or yours. You may stay".

A purple and red blade revealed, the thick steel touching the tips of the floor. A sole rose entrenched on the handle as it accomplished its celebrated form, committed.

"Sparda" the most famous razor-edge bellowed.

Raijin thought twice, "I would have liked to say goodbye to Nero but you are just as stubborn as your sons" escorting.

He too wanted to free his child of these unending threats. Demons would continue to hunger for his flesh and Raijin would persevere in Nero's defence. Even though Sparda was in disagreement, he too pooled these binding emotions. Parental instincts to protect their families hadn't weakened nor faltered. They never would. Azazel hurdled, depressed, locking his valuable device. At least he had their photographs, "sucks" he weighed up but was compliant to his father's directives. Sparda rested before entering the portal. Raijin and Azazel followed without hesitation.

Vergil stirred from phobic slumber, turning over to find an extraordinary vision. Spotted deer had come out of the refuge of the woods to graze theses pastures, their ears twitching as they risked welfare to intake the highly nutrient lawn. It was genesis. The sky still dark, a line of daylight nascent. Slowly seating and holding his head. Leon was snoozing beside him, clasping Dante strongly who was concealed in his torso, mucky. The deer's fled having caught footsteps.

Vergil watched Nero stepping out of the thickets, appendage blushing softly against his bare flesh, making his eyes glisten. He was solitary. Their eyes merged in disillusionment. Their fathers were gone. The youth dropped his steadfast gaze uncertainly, strolling closer. Dante ascended, eyes distended and stinging, taking Leon with him who continued sleeping, having watched over them untiringly. Adjusting the blonde in his lap and pinpointing his drowsy head on Vergil's shoulders, hand casing the mark which was raw under his touches.

"I'm sorry" pleading for forgiveness. He had no more tears left to give, completely hollow and empty.

Vergil's earnest fingers journeyed his tresses, heartening, pinching his nose shut making him smile softly. They still had each other. Nero went on his laps to clasp the elder who was hiding his guilt and depression. The sight of Sparda had been his ultimate downfall. To lose him, like this, was the wickedest form of castigation not even hell could impose. Having concealed Vergil, Nero craftily jabbed the old man's head who gazed to find the cheekiest smile he had ever seen embedded on the kid's face. Ill-behaved, wicked and on the brinks of hilarity which he was doing his level best to hold back. It was a tough performance irrefutably.

The fun games of hide-and-seek played with Giselle had paid off, big time, stabbing a thumb in the air which Dante monitored leisurely to chuckle hysterically, wakening Leon who considered him with supreme exasperation. This sniggering bastard would be the basis of his premature passing. However, having the best outlook of the heavens he too chuckled in wonder. Trying to cover his face with both hands to regain composure but Dante was making things worse, grunting audaciously, trying to talk between brutal fits, downright unrepentant. They both reached a point of no return where they had waterworks and painful stitches. Leon felt guilt for laughing this hard but couldn't stop. This was not how he imagined their introductions would be. But considering the company he was keeping, he had come to expect nothing less. This deed was sure-fire promise that they were destined for hell, together, per the original plans had the hasty Saviour not destroyed the last of the Hell Gates in his quest to procure his biggest prize.

Vergil raised his head and gawked at the idiots, "what is so…funny"?

Nero without warning bussed his lips, hard enough, to thrust his head back, "I promised I would never let you down, even if it means being a complete imp and falling to new lows" aslant with elation, addressing Dante who was clutching his sides. "Should have seen the look on their faces old man", snorting slyly "didn't even see me coming" proudly flexing his claw.

Dante lugged him into his arms and snogged acutely, roughing him up. "My hero" he squeezed Nero who united in their laughter and celebrations via a group hug.

Vergil appraised with annoyance...horde of unintelligent idiots. Only to be tumbled and boarded by their heavyweight limbs as they hugged him. A pile-up resulted, lying flattened and irritated. The ecstatic trio decided he had had enough and slumped inside his prolonged arms, his three, trouble making chicks, directed their prised fowl towards the firmaments. Vergil witnessed.

Nero hadn't returned alone. Three prisoners had been arrested in his afterglow, presently hanging perilously above ground. Upon entering the gateway they had been impolitely dragged back by a powerful fist which sustained to be Nero's preferred silhouette. For entirety was bounded in the palm of his hands and once caught there was no escape. Their family had grown, nonetheless grudgingly. Sparda, Raijin and Azazel tried to keep intact their diminishing dignity thanks to their grinning, irrepressible spawns. Raijin and Azazel were in secret very pleased at being caged. Azazel eyeing the blonde's mismatched hair, feeling better. He wasn't the only weird person in this assembly.

Dante whispered sweetly into the kid's ear, who observed Sparda graciously, hypothetically his father-in-law, motioning to his light. The Knight was lowered, floating directly above his son. Dante embraced the man who had been absent for ever and a day. Feeling guilt for sullying his clean garments, but there was something urgent he had to voice or he would remorse this instance. Leon had imparted a beautiful example which he would by no means forget, the blonde lifting and quietly encouraging him with a silent go-ahead. The importance of revealing what should be acquiescently specified, before it's too late.

"I love you dad" he understood, "I love you. I'm sorry for everything". Dante prayed crushingly. "Stay, please...stay, don't leave us dad…don't leave…us again. We can't be…without you".

Sparda's mouth segregated and closed in recognition, his boys hadn't altered, one bit. This clinging child was just missing his teddy bear, Ballou. Vergil progressed, aware of his grimy form and immorality, swiping his temple to cleanse a patch of his skin for the man he had never seen eye to eye, inching closer and subduing his forehead onto his father's surface, lifelong speechless to transfer a self-effacing message.

"Omnia vincit, et nos cedamus amori…father" in onus.

Vergil had never called Sparda by this designation and how wrong he had been not to, arm enfolding Dante as they barricaded him, well-proportioned. Acumens severely entrenched in their matching eyes. Sparda had no explication but to obviate their gaze. How was he going to escape his loving children, obliviously watching Riajin who was lowered next to stand before Nero's verdicts? Human hand, parting his father's hair to trace the merciless scars perpetrated to his face, his father had suffered…just like his mother. Laying his hand flat on his cheek…like the day they had left each other's worlds. Nero expressed his hearts oscillations.

"You're real" he believed.

His father's hand curled over his, blood tears marking his skin, his son streaked them warmly inspecting his long hair, "real" he distributed gently coating them enflamed, perusing between his fingers. For one who had suffered loss from a young age Nero held no grudges for the man before him, just a pining that he too should stay, sharing his brother's thoughts dependably. Azazel was the only one still hung out like dirty laundry and feeling left the hell out.

"Hey...tsk, hey, what about me?" Unobtrusively discouraged and peeved. This was becoming a crappy get-together.

Leon felt sorry for the other youth prompting Nero "think he's ready to come down too".

Azazel was sunk to his knees, contemplating the pretty blonde.

"Cheers", trying to be cool, a little overwhelmed. He wasn't used to this, an ample recluse.

Leon ruffled his unkempt hair making him massively red, "welcome to the family", taking it upon him to dispose of the formalities and any long-drawn-out summaries. Noticeably used to this craziness. He knew they had a lot of catching up to do.

Dante nuzzled him out of happiness, "couldn't have said it better myself", slapping the kid's ass straight into Vergil's torso that held him before he could fall.

Nero rubbed his walloped rumps but didn't diminish his control over his hostages, confused, "think it's safe to let them go" murmuring to Vergil for guidance as he continued to clamp a very important individual who was persisting indisposed. Sparda hadn't been subdued nor softened and he didn't want to cheat by using his very persuasive flames to make him change his mind. Although he was in a rush to cure his fathers riddled body, scrambled.

Vergil scoured the leaves sticking to the hybrid's head. He couldn't help but scratch his nose timidly making Dante and Leon chuckle. A healthy cheek was kissed with caring gentility, making Nero grin bashfully. Vergil's traces still left him red-faced, even though...part body, part soul, they existed as a whole. Nevertheless, the words that were recommended left the teen on the verge of tears.

"I don't remember if I have told you this, my love, for you..." the elder raised fluently.

Nero's eyes teemed, "y-you don't have to" he reminded, "it's not your…style" snivelling expectedly.

Vergil pressed his nose shut the way he did Dante's before the idyllic waterworks could inaugurate, whispering curiously, "it seems our paths were always fated to cross. This I already know but why do I still get the impression that your love for me is just as foolish as his", watching Dante who was admiring Rebellion's intensifying flickers against his arresting skin, incessantly.

Nero faltered before elucidating "all I know is that…I can't be without you...or them".

"I can never change my feelings…for you" enclosing the mark with his claw and kissing his lips ineptly.

The elder replicated the intimate caress, "foolish" the loving say.

Neither good at articulating their hearts zeniths but when had they needed words? Nero's eyes had always been the doorways to his soul. Vergil's image was permanently engrained, for it was all they beheld. Leon and Dante slipped their arms about Nero's stomach and dragged him back who lay twisted among their inspiring branches, teasing and eagerly anticipating his inferences. The cerulean devils searching gaze drifted to reread Sparda who was trying to keep him out, infringing, invading, and surpassing to glimpse his father's mind and spirit, attaining his answer with a distinctive smile that beckoned the captive's freedom.

It was the escalation of dawning. Love like theirs was contagious and unrelenting. The passageway of an uncontrolled waterfall that would ultimately sweep every hurdle in its course, for divine love is said to be the only remedy that can surmount the hardest of hearts and rectify a draining world bound in greed, cruelty, suppression, and corruption. Light and dark…right and wrong…heaven and hell were merely a balancing act we all must embark on. It is the moral compass inherently gifted to us all that truly makes each and every ending...Eros.


	32. The Butterfly Effect

"2 days earlier"

Wesker parked his black Mercedes in front of the soaring Cathedral, sited expediently on the peripheries of the city, flinging his headset, emblem, tie and mobile into the glove compartment, alongside his handgun. The only verification he obligated for access was he. Getting out of the expensive car he wandered towards the monumental gates which were firmly inaccessible. The entire construction was blockaded. The mass mausoleums situated inside the shady entries were the obligatory titivation, the maple trees rustling lightly. God was the unknown mystery, the infinite space, none of which could be restricted. These holy establishments were built by man to serve the elite, the bases to create rift and fear and regulate the gullible masses. Wesker stared at the identical stone ogres guarding the deceptive grounds. The undetectable laser hidden in their mouths had already skimmed his navy irises, his matchless thumbprints impressed on the lock pad.

The spiked Iron Gate's clicked and dragged inwardly. He stepped inside the rock-strewn surrounds. Traces of death, decline and hints of familiar contaminants and compounds hailed his arrival. He was home…in-flowing past the portentous seraphs and finishing farewells. Demons and humans were forgotten here. A test subject was only valuable for the purpose of divulging hidden answers. Once realized, they all ended up in the equivalent bulk crypts. Humorous, as it was factual. Those unlucky enough to be at the bottom most would sadly, almost always, end up as piles of skeletons, the necessary victims. A crow swooped down from a nearby tree and squawked noisily, breaching the stillness. Its black eyes were seeing, as it sat above a specific tombstone with the subsequent verse, flapping its wings.

"Even when I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no danger, for you are with me; your grace and your spirit they comfort me".

How unenforceable Wesker thought. Affluence was about staying at the topmost of the food chain by your private steadfastness and determination. To inhibit failure at all cost. It was the way of the world. He scaled the stairway, unhurried, and unlocked the stilted doors. The long alleyway was uncomplicated. Three old-fashioned chandeliers were lighting the low-spirited erection, his steps announcing and resonating on the hard-hitting stone as he headed towards the altar. The benches were unoccupied but a priest was burning white candles around the depictions of Jesus nailed to the cross. Hands and feet knotted. Eyes shut. Wesker didn't pay his respects to a man so helpless. The priest approved his attendance with a curtsy and handed him a key to the prayer room on the right, the left were for those who indeed wanted to make a clean breast. He on the other hand was continuing to steed his sins.

Taking a seat inside the confession booth he scanned his hands on the pane, which budged to the right, the opening to an aperture which he solved by inserting the key. The only item in the room, a large book-stand, moved to expose a top-secret stairway. Wesker descended the steps, to find another inaccessible door. He placed his hand on the image scanner situated on the wall which cast an eye over his ID, the door rapidly sliding into the wall.

He was moving downhill into the first level of the Umbrella facility; the sewers, a network of access ways into the entire metropolis. A state of the art cable car was his mode of transport. He used this thumbprint on the sensor which prompted the machine into being, the doors gliding open, the dim lights flickering. He seated as the computer verified his entry and logged his every interchange. Each Tom, Dick, and Harry was monitored at all times by the mistrustful cooperation and justly so, making an allowance for the brutal experimentation and examinations taking place right underground.

"Welcome...Albert Wesker. Please confirm your level", the feminine voice questioned.

This underground facility was similar to Dante's Inferno. 7 levels of hell, heaven didn't exist.

"Section 6", he verified with discourse.

"Level 6...confirmed", the voice detector authorised.

The cable triggered and toured the web like tunnels. His motives shrouded. Why had he come? He had to concede, he was inquisitive. Did the demon really think it could profit from this inane meeting? One or the other, it would attest to be expedient. Instincts never betrayed him.

The cable car decelerated to a stopover. The rather baleful blonde got out finding two men dressed in white sanitization uniforms, pending his arrival, handing him a clipboard with the specifics of the dealings which he sped-read. The demon had smashed out of the test-tube but they couldn't identify how. When the solutions had leaked, the doctors had panicked. In the mayhem, the creature had selected a specific specialist to impede, the most experienced and valued member of staff, allowing the others to escape, unscathed. It had no artilleries so had improvised. Four arms had snatched the doctor's body and the creature had thrust its tail down his throat to choke him. Wesker stilled a smirk from shaping 'at the end of your tether' measures this mediocre demon had engaged. He couldn't even remember its form but these details jogged his memory. They all beheld the same to him, incongruous.

The omission was Azazel. He had exotically human features and an irksome personality to match. Wesker was confident he would be here. The burn marks on his arm had resurfaced. He was used to pain but this continuous intense aching was becoming excruciating. To the extent it was disrupting him. He loathed being distracted. The two escorted him silently, through the dark tunnels towards familiar titanium doors. The numbers to access the premises were dialled on his behalf, arriving in section B of the high-tech facility.

This section was where the fundamental ground-breaking explorations were assumed. A few researchers he was acquainted with hurried to him, mysteriously attended by a team of 6 hulking Equalisers. These were heavily armed military personnel employed for their savagery and brute force to keep things in check. All equipped with grenade launchers and black uniforms. When you were conducting activities with beasts they needed equivalent trainers. It was a circus of a different kind. They were staring at him as he handed the information back to the rickety eyed doctor.

"This way", he redirected the group of men, guiding them to the origin of the badly behaved, towards the Binding zone.

These cubicles was where the specimens were stored in enormous test-tubes, the water compromised of numbing liquids to induce paralysis. The demons were pumped with various elements to perceive their full properties. It had been a singularity that this demon had escaped the waterlogged capsule. No other had ever accomplished this undertaking. They had constrained the entire area and evacuated the staff members, sealing off all exits.

The doctor pointed to the camera located inside the space. It was a mess. The green fluid tainting the white tiles, the other samplings in the four large vessels had been killed in the pandemonium. They had cut off the oxygen supplies to exterminate the creatures, counter-weighting any additional threat. The demon in question was nowhere to be found. Wesker alternated the camera and zoomed into the only blind spot. The shrewd escapee had realised it was the only place they could not watch its activities. It had chosen to sit in the farthest crook where only the doctor's legs were visible as it sat like a stagnant shadow, twisting his figure. The doctor's legs were convulsing, letting them know he was still alive.

"Clever" Wesker noticed.

The six men ogled him, formally. Not a word from their mouths as the doctor stumbled.

"We have disinfected the room through the air filters. It should be safe for you to enter and…negotiate".

Wesker was still judging the transmitters and overlooked the doctor's shaky hands and nippy scurry. One of the military personnel motioned to the yellow bio-hazard suit they had kindly left out for him, staggeringly big and bald. These soldiers were imitations of one another, physically strong and in search of hard-hearted wasting. Umbrella had recruited them solely for killing purpose and disposal, not IQ's.

"We're here for your safety Sir, in case that bug tries anything…funny". The GI instructed, "I strongly recommend you move in front of the doors if it threatens you and that'll be our signal to come in and sauté its ass to kingdom come".

The additional soldiers snickered at their commanding skippers big-headed remarks.

Wesker weighed, "am sure that won't be necessary", punching the coordinates on the panel to gain entry to the room, ignoring the suit.

The utmost private S.T.A.R.S member was on high alert. Something was anomalous about this situation. The men swapped eager glances as he strode inside. The door sealed shut behind him. The men marched out…fast. The officer in charge smashed the first lock with the butt of his gun, breaking it, instigating an emergency shutter to seal off the corridor. There was no escape, for the bug or this vain prick of a man who had been named a traitor and spy.

Umbrella had found out about Wesker's research workshops and they had made a special visit this daybreak to knock-back his toils. The personnel slaughtered, the findings, samples, studies, all blustered to rubble. The demon and he were about to share the same unpleasant conclusion. They had planted a bomb inside the laboratory suit, it didn't matter if he dressed in it or not. This area was estimated to detonate in exactly five minutes. The explosion would be confined to this unit. They were here to guarantee and manage the projected demolition. Fucking with Umbrella carried big penalties.

"Dead man walking", the giant drilled making his comrade's laugh.

Checking the time on his wristwatch as the countdown commenced, standing a few feet from the shutters just in case they unbelievably survived the blast, cracking his neck.

"Good, fucking, riddance".

Wesker stepped inside the room crunching the shattered glass on the floor, bending to inspect the conditions of the vessel, when a thrilled expression rebounded.

"Well, well, well…aren't you a sight for...sore eyes".

Akira was viewing his every single move.

"It has been so long since I laid my eyes on a good-looking man. Are all researchers' old farts?"

Wesker was determining the method of escape. A petite maggot was manifestly stirring between the liquids.

"Remarkable", he acknowledged.

The little being had gone undetected and achieved to make a singular hole in the impassable glass, causing a crack. The demon used its slight power to break it. He could hear splish-splashing, munching and chomping. The way a famished crocodile would devour a wild buffalo. The gore couldn't be seen on camera. The doctor's legs were moving because Akira was feeding on him, the upper body devoured, the lower half consciously undamaged. She had been starved to death and beggars couldn't be pickers. Leaving the thighs and legs to give the optimum deception he was undeniably alive and kicking. Relative witticism planned.

The man she had been dying to see was finally here. Wesker had made a big impression on her. In some ways, he had come to remind her of her most wanted prince. Akira knew this man was the only one durable enough to stake her strategies and act as a peg. The way a mountain could thwart earthquakes, as the plates shifted. In her case, these shaking plates were her unbalanced considerations.

Akira was very aware of the fact that she was going insane. Vergil had thrown her into chaos. This horse and rider were unhinged and very unstable. It had been a very bad idea to have consumed him so greedily and undergo his absence. Those blue blazes still stung her membranes. The delectable foxy, she had befriended, had arranged her coffin. Nero's combustion's had operated as a rigorous dose of receptive supplements to make her love problems un-fucking-manageable. The combo of flames and addicting elixir were a lethal dose of drugs, beyond all drugs, and she was sadly a junkie in severe withdrawal. The end product was a fanatical compulsion for living, breathing and prevailing…Vergil, Vergil…and Vergil. She recounted his name for the billionth time. No amount of shock therapy could pull her back. Who or what could equal him…gutted.

She was fucked all right. Azazel that shitty brat…had sadly been right. In the interim, her hungers, thirsts, surfeits for sex, destruction and havoc were all for one party. Vergil had become an Idol of worship. Her splendid devil had infected her heart and tainted her filthy soul. Who knew such a feat was even possible? These two months, jam-packed with torture, degeneracy and malice, which humans were so accomplished at imposing, couldn't compare to the visions she was made to swallow each night, ultimately motivating her into the jaws of lunacy…wishing for death, only to live, a living death. Each night when slumber eventually came from the bouts of suffering, poisoning and chemical toxins, it was the crushing apparitions that Akira wanted to discontinue but every detail was embedded on the nerves of her inflicted skin. Her mind couldn't stop replaying these transcendental exposes.

Inside a darkened room was a rosy light. Her steps are drawn to it, flicking her long hair, she gaits, undressed, towards the cradle of all her upheavals. A capsule, much like the one she had become a slave to, is confining Vergil's undressed form. The blue liquids can't hide his breath-taking figure. Eyes locked, he floats inside like a cleansed angel. Hands crossed over his chest, just like his legs. She becomes awfully aroused. It is the only time she feels any desire…she can never shut him out. An incubus who has lost all her sexual drive couldn't ask for a healthier blessing. Was it possible to recuperate some of her old powers just by sheer will, perhaps? Hands spread over the looking beaker of hope. Only Vergil's flesh and blood could bring her back from oblivion. His fatal eyes untie and he emits a single stint.

"Pathetic" he was looking down at her. These tides persecuted her soul.

"Pathetic?" Akira questions as the grinning jackal emerges beside him, legs wrapping his brother's body like a winding serpent, the stretching limbs sheathing the elder's glossy chest. The chain that binds her beloved's heart and scorches her, the link that clamps Vergil from being the best he could be, the abominable jackal that had disciplined her uninhabited wolf.

"I told you, you can't have him", he affronts cockily and why not? What he had no one could ever take.

Akira's most reviled enemy was the jackal. Dante was the deadliest opponent she had ever come across, that sweet smile, that dumb performance, so very, very, deceptive. The jackal was nifty, intuitive and unconquerable. The reason Vergil had been netted. Another eye-catching devil arm materialised to Vergil's right and draped about his trunk, long legs swathing his hips, impersonating the left effortlessly. The second fetter that she had utterly underrated…the fox, which had buried its formidable persona until the very end. The Saviour, the Demolisher, the definitive source of all her incapacitations.

Nero was smiling…defiant, and why not, for he too was supremely contented and unbeaten. After all she had put him through he had simply risen from the dark to become the light itself which he had been so frightened of. This wayward teen had efficaciously enchanted her beloved's heart in mere days to equal that despicable brother of his. Nero had earned his rightful place beside Vergil. They shielded her prince amid their limbs, guarding him ungenerously. Yet his eyes continually stare at her as they caress his flesh, all over, in quiet whispers, confessions and sultry sighs, leaving no place untouched between their lips and hands, in textbook predilection.

"Pathetic", his tightened lips transfer as their mouths suckle and caress him.

It was his perceptiveness that makes her spread her hands and press into the glass in craving, scraping at it to get to him but she never can. Love had destroyed her. It was so very excruciating to stomach this consciousness as a woman. Akira was deteriorating and had never felt such terror, loss and anxiety. Her eyes bleed, tears hurt, sting and cut to the core. Yet she can never break this glass. Resentment venting in vigorous yells filled with barbarity, jealousy and hatred. This was the true face of desolation and desperateness, her bitter reality. When had she become this vile?

"I will…fucking kill" snarled "kill them both" eyes enraged, beaming madly.

In his eyes she had seen a tide but nightfall so black she wanted the world to bear witness and witness it would. Vergil's discernment's remained intact; he loved to wreak bloodbaths and butchery, enough to make all four oceans red. Akira had strategized her solution as to how she could promote this wonderful side of him. By killing the ones he loved, her opposition. It was Akira's true calling, to make her prince a God of destruction, an emperor like Sparda before his scandal with a weak human.

"I will release your shackles. I will release you...my love, your mine, only...mine, alone".

"One cannot part a lover…no…no…no, how can one portion...you. I will…set you free".

The sparkling waters start to turn ruddy with their blood.

"They will perish. I will destroy them and make you watch as they suffer their last breathes. Rip them to bits, right in front of you", their bodies are now rotting. "Tell me who will control your...wrath Vergil? I told you, that only I see you for what you really…are".

"They will see too, ah, yes, yes your...true self, killing, eradicating and stabbing…that knife blade you love will slice and cut this world in half".

"Everyone will be dead…dead…dead", clapping her hands elatedly, the sound transporting her back to realism.

Wesker's eyes were assessing her moodily. He had progressed closer but his facial expression stayed exactly the same in spite of her nonsensical chanting and ovation, exposing her psychotic tendencies she had been diagnosed with fairly recently. Her saucer eyes enlarged in awkwardness. She would lose track of time and her brains paroxysms of daft outbursts would screen rudely, at the wrong fucking time. Wesker crouched in front of her to examine the leftovers of her suppertime which were dribbled all over, dirtying his grey suit to bend on one knee. Guts, intestines, privates were junk she didn't like and were slopped on the floor. Heart, liver, lungs all yummy squishy things gnawed and digested.

Akira was still holding the man's thighs which she let loose to clean her hideous face. She wasn't pretty to any further extent and very conscious of her present appearance. This fair-haired male was even more enticing close-up, if he were to walk into a room her head would definitely turn for a second glimpse. He was interested to see how she had eaten her meal and didn't care about her looks or getting mucky. Making her like him even more, a man who presented himself to the world as a model citizen but privately was even more animalistic then her, especially if it came to benefitting him. Wesker would be the one to get her out of this sinkhole and hasten her strategies. Akira had done her time and wanted the fuck out, for they both desired the same last stop, the hybrids.

Wesker guided generally. "Five minutes...is all I have to spare" condescending.

Akira sniffed his salted aroma and licked her lips when she noticed it was Vergil who was regarding her. She had never perceived him in a suit, he looked edible. Slapping her face with both hands, she mended her drifting sanities.

"Do you know of the Chaos Theory Mr…Wesker or would you prefer Albert?"

Wesker's awareness floated towards the doors, "the Butterfly Effect" he regaled inspecting the indicating seconds. Time was valuable.

Akira flung the corpse creeping closer to get a better look at him. Vergil vaulted his brow and browsed over her body making her heart thump…thump and…thump. Her pitch black chasms blinking to clear their incoherent vision, long scrawny tail that had lost all its muscle slithered around him next to the floor.

"Order, disorder, chaos is…so hard to simplify, for it explores the transition between order and disorder, which often occur in surprising ways".

Akira's tail hoisted over Wesker swaying like a pendulum. She thought she saw silver in those sunny yellows.

"The flutter of a butterfly's wings at the right point in space and time can cause a hurricane elsewhere. You and I are that flutter".

"The slight errors in the measuring system which will dramatically render any prediction or should I say foretelling useless", snickering as if she was sharing an inside joke, "the volatility Albert, the ultimate fate of a complex system". Ripping a chunk of meat from the deceased's mans' leg to continue momentum.

"I asked this old fart here about the Chaos Theory. It has always interested me so I wanted to gain insight and of course earn his trust."

"It was easy, he was a closeted homo, married with kids, but had his predatory eyes set on a new employee, a fresh straight man who works in this here facility" preventing a belch.

"The fart thought he had a chance with that frightful face, eek", grimacing.

Masticating the meat insatiably the way a hungry dog would. Vergil fingers pressed to his attractive lips as he listened to her. Why hadn't she kissed them…dropping the need to eat? How punishing and unjust it had been to have cut paths with him. If only they had never met…if only.

Wesker stood, "worthless", he quantified.

He wasn't here to revise mathematics and knew the demons brain had been fried by the chemicals they had been pumping in its veins daily. There was only so much the body could take, contemplating the four lifeless bulks floating in the test tubes, all swollen lopsided silhouettes. It was time to divest. Wesker would personally see to this one's immolation when he felt the tail shawl his leg. It wasn't intimidating, just a minor tug.

"Oi, that isn't fair, I still have 3 minutes".

Akira detailed with her pointy spikes which had become splintered and broken from the physical abuse and side-effects of the substances.

"As I was saying, I knew this man's weakness and sought to exploit him. I told the fart if he stopped drugging me at night I will transform my body into that of what he desires the most. The perverted doctor agreed immediately. Took me 9 days for what I used to do with a click of a finger. Even so, it wasn't faultless".

Akira slowed down, "the eyes, I cannot get...right. They...they turn into his...Vergil" sacrosanct name airing, shivering.

Wesker felt the tremble against his leg as the loop tautened, detecting.

Akira eyed, enfolding his calf mildly with her scrawny hooks. "That pervert could only get off if I was beaten, gagged, raped and sodomized by these masked men who were likely a few of the other staff members into this kind of perversions. He jerked off like a pansy in a corner, seems being in the closet had made him...senile". Spitting out a piece of bone, "he just wanted to taint, muzzle and stain that youth, blaming the boy for his present deplorable psychosomatic state".

"Am an incubus Albert, so I understand human desires but the darker ones they harbour are…my real expertise", her occupation credentials.

Akira bolted her eyes at the recall of Vergil's fingers caressing her cheek. The icy Son of Sparda had…touched her. Oh, so warm, so temperate, so tender, his trace had torn her to smithereens. It was painful to remember him but she cannot forget his scent, this constant numbing pain, inflicting her skin.

"His love was never love but covetousness, smut and vulgarity. I didn't mind of course, it allowed me to enter rehab, kick the nightly drugs, enough to prepare a sensible attack, a drop of my blood", raising her index finger.

Akira wiggled heartily. "I too received weekly gossip when they thought I had passed out…mostly about you. Everyone thinks you're batty for having confidence in demons and humans breeding together to make diversified litters".

"When you're at the bottom, people will show you what they really are…without their masks. It comes with any position of authority, am sure, you know this well. I also heard what they planned to do…to you", lurid.

Wesker's annoyance flickered. He had never divulged to anyone what he really wanted but this fiend was spot-on.

"2 minutes", he recapped. Paradoxically how long he had left to live.

Akira took the opening to snoop into his mind while he processed her sneaky insinuations to assemble her newest costume, prompting her alterations. A nice-looking girl was gazing back at her, unlike the previous plain Jane. This girl was tremendously attractive, athletic, pretty but with a boyish appeal. Nutritious sustenance filled with the most despicable personality was replenishing her muscles. Long legs and limbs achieved, brown hair growing, honeyed skin wrapping her dry bones, supple breasts gratifying a lean front and curvilinear hips, the coarse voice done.

"I wanted to notify you but it looks like they're going to hit two birds with one stone".

Wesker had taken his eyes away to notice the ongoing transformation. Akira's words had got him watching the camera, zooming in and out, to snoop on their exchange. Could it be he had just walked into a trap, inexcusable? He moved like a shadow without trail, leaving no evidence. The burn mark sizzling like a warning sign. He made a hasty move for the doors but Akira tightened her control. Human hands were holding his calf. Wesker gazed at Jill completely dumbfounded as she sat nude before him in a puddle of blood. Legs flattened, the way a child would seat. Only her eyes gave her away, they were a lighter shade of blue. Akira knew she had done a decent job when Wesker blinked twice in disbelief. This time she had his undivided attention, pretty freckles speckling her nose, her private finishing touch. It was time to win him over.

"They mean to kill you...my dearest, with me, right here, right now".

"The bomb is planted outside this door. They think I cannot see past the invisible hole-in-the-wall but I see, yes I see. There is no escape". Grinning wildly at his seething expression, "that tricky little alchemist known as Azazel has...back-stabbed you".

"They found out about your side projects but you should be smart enough to have guessed that child is going to let you take the fall for everything he has stolen under their noses". Licking her nails, "sweet isn't he, looks like he is going to be disentangling those intricate daddy disputes. Even so, I have no idea what he means to do", nosey.

Everyone was acquainted with Lucifer's ongoing quarrels with his insolent son but not even Akira knew that Azazel was born a mixed blood and he was operating under the leadership of one of the most obscure and influential demons of all time…Sparda. Akira got to her feet clumsily as Wesker assimilated the bad news, she wasn't used to hiking. Most days she was either balanced inside a cubicle resembling a repellent toad or was snarled to a metal bed getting butt-fucked. Sliding on the blood and nearly doing splits. Hoping, he didn't notice. Wesker marched to the door and punched in the dial to unlock it, enraged.

"Access denied", the machine declined politely.

"Damn!" Wesker punched the metal door dropping his calm.

He had been deceived and hated the feeling of being someone else's stepping stone. Azazel had gone missing because he had no intention of ever coming back, screwing him over. How had he found out about his internal affairs? That conniving brat was far more astute then he had given him credit for and would pay heavily. Slipping out the extra handgun concealed in the clasp of his right calf. Releasing the safety, he pointed the cannon at the investigative camera and shot. Aiming at the panel and riddling it with the entire magazine, placing it behind his waist. The device sparkled.

Wesker snatched the panel to get to the under-wire. He had no plans to die here, tugging them out of the sockets in a passive aggressive way when he heard clamorous drumming behind him. The lunatic that had lured him to his death was thumping the glass cubicle where a tall creature lay dead, humming in a low voice. Body squeezing the glass mesmerized. They had less than 2 minutes. Akira was snooping for a sound by yielding her ear to the glass, pleased, when she noticed the water, shilly-shally, ever so slightly.

"There you are my sweetie come to…mama" straining to see.

The leech she had planted on the sadistic doctor, without his notice, during one of their encounters hadn't feasted on his flesh but as per her commands had found its way into the mouth of the unfortunate female succubus they had recently seized. A gorgeous one at that who was living like a meek mortal for the sake of the human she had fallen in love with, a deity of beauty. The doctor had made close contact with her since she was considered trifling on their ferociousness category. Enough for that black splatter to seep into the female sprites skin that had lost her will to live, having misplaced her mate in the crossfire.

Consuming a prodigious fairy like her would have its own paybacks. This leech would be piquant but the surplus of bio-hazard treatments would act as natural steroids. This was Akira's trialling. The water was eddying as the figure started to shake, spuming, about to go bang. Hundreds of black parasites were going to flock out of every pore of her deceased meat. The leech monster was about to take profile. She stepped back when it walloped the glass rapidly, causing a snap. Dropping on all fours in quest of the tiny maggot before it could be trodden.

"Where are you…?"

She scurried in loops. Inspecting behind the tank for her little one, the poor thing was startled. She stretched her hand and it clambered onto her nail, "phew", gliding it into the safety of her tresses. The leeches spurt, turning the water black as they binged all over the female form in order to take shape. The shadowy parasites baring their razors as they whacked the glass, this time it shattered with a brash outburst. Wesker rotated to the uproar to find the unsightly miscreation upended beside Jill. All this had happened in a blink of an eye, leeches tumbling off and slithering towards him but Akira ran over. Spreading out her arms and pressing up against him as an appendage made of nasty marauders came shooting out to eat his mortal flesh.

"No, bad baby…" she quarrelled. The arm skidded over her skin, hundreds of scroungers nipping and sucking her breast, "ouch, ouch" she rustled in sting smacking them away.

"Stop that!" Akira yapped but found five leeches fixed to her hand where she had made contact with the unpleasant thing, trying to jiggle them off crossly but they were mountaineering her legs. "What a pain in the ass!" Her blasé scream.

Wesker was pressed up against the door as the leeches' enclosed. Akira struggled to push it away as a sea of parasites rose and screeched to get to him. Bleeding all over from their slight love bites. This thing needed blood…critically.

Wesker had enough, "control it", he demanded resentfully.

Akira was squeezed into him as the monster encroached to palate his breathe. "He's hungry, starving to be precise and that means he is willing to bite the hand that feeds, "ouch you little…fucker."

A leech was immovable on her chest. Wesker tore it off. The monster screeched, swarming closer. Wesker had never seen anything so disagreeable…it reeked of blood and decay. The stench was enough to make him bilious. How would he kill this thing? Akira tilted her chin and was staring at him, the expression eccentric. Her soft hand tapped his hair, he recoiled.

"I will protect you", she retorted as Vergil regarded her elusively with those stunning blues.

Was she pretty now, in this form? Would he like it? He had never been pleasured, asexual, for so long, pure and untouched. How ideal it would have been to have such an illustrious lover. She had wanted to show him what true desire was. To be his first but that dirty jackal and that inferior fox had discoloured his soul. They were the fat ticks that were sucking and exhausting Vergil's superior blood.

The physical leeches were overrunning Wesker's legs but so far not a single bite had been inflicted. His teeth bore in disgust, one minute lingering. Akira's skin was oozing, he could see her feet covered in bites and bruises where their suckers had been left behind. She rubbed her hair and held out her pinkie finger. He sighted the small insignificant maggot. It stood on its posterior and lifted its tiny body to glower his new home right in the eye. Wesker was a commendable host.

"I know what it is you pursue. You crave power that you can deliver by your own hands. I can give it to you. The right to be a God, entails hybrid blood, am I wrong?"

Wesker felt the leeches climbing his waist, they weren't going to stop. Akira's lower body was concealed by them.

"You have met the ones who hold the best of both worlds, in their veins. Definitely an endangered species but also the most dangerous kind, you wear his scar so proudly", tapping his burned arm. Akira knew this man would go a long way under stringent regulations set by her. 

She smiled, "I will let you have two fine specimens for your research and even deposit the resources to dissect them. It will definitely give me a boner". Forgetting she had a female body.

"I will name and label your test samples. Sample one, foxy, sample two jackals".

Akira pictured their fixed bodies inside the test-tube. Perhaps, she would let the cute boy go since he had spared her but he would rather die than stop loving Vergil. Nero was desperately love-struck and threatening competition. But the wolf was only hers. As much as it aggrieved her she would have to kill him too, she had grown sympathetic towards her preceding pet. Akira would worry about these emotional matters when and as they befell.

"Mine, mine, only mine", she hymned hitting her head mildly on his neck for a response as if she had made perfect sense.

The look on Wesker's face spoke otherwise of her incoherent ramblings, more absorbed with the parasites that had by now reached his neck. They had just 30 seconds left on the ticking clock.

"All you have to do is make a pinkie promise to me by accepting Marshmallow. It's the only way my uglier babies won't drink you dry", raising the tiny maggot titled improperly.

"Everyone hates you in this facility. You think you are above us all and hence have a robust desire to trample those under you". Jabbing a finger severely "isn't that right Mr Bigwig and I didn't forget how you squished my face so indecently when we bumped into each other".

"You're really uncaring and I have trust concerns with you Albert", the hypocritical imitation criticized.

"Swallow marshmallow or die but let me remind you the bomb is also ticking", the leeches devoured Jill's face. Only her left eye was visible.

Wesker was well and truly trapped and he knew it. He was left with no other selection. They were creeping over his face, survival and instinct determining his next move. Akira's amusement burgeoned as he speedily slipped the caterpillar into his entry. Teeth cracking down to kill it but Marshmallow had alternative plans. Melting in his mouth and settling between his gums to guarantee welfare. Wesker felt a chill as it moulded into shape, scuttling into the back of his throat and straight down his digestive tract. The leeches devoured their bodies. He was a part of them, stuck inside a living and growing apiary which absorbed the chamber. Akira emerged from behind the corpus of stirring black. Jill's naked body nestled into his as he kept his eyes shut, her nose rubbing his chin as she slipped her forelegs between his.

"Hold onto me" she detained amiably.

The room shook with a discharge, so brutal, it left his head pulsating. This sea of reviving and regenerating vampires had saved them from the explosion. Jill's soft nipples forced into his shirt, her hands drifted down towards his fastener but he grilled.

"Playtime's over. I can never be anyone's...pet" throwing her arms off him and making her even cheerier. 

He was no sucker. The reason she had elected him to hunt them down. For a human he was gutsy and she needed a rigid man to control her psychological instability. Wesker ticked all her necessities.

"What makes you think I want to control you? Marshmallow is for my well-being" itching her butt where an avaricious vagrant leech was stuck. Pressing her rounded nipple, leaving it prickling. "We both want the same thing so why can't we be friends?"

One knee furtively polishing his groin to see if he was stiff, any straight man would have been, identifying. The arrangement she was in was not to his flavour. It was as simple as that. The leeches were melting all over the place as the anonymous monster liquefied to form a massive dark sludge which streamed out of the wreckage, the fire driving it away. The demolished room came into view, fumes, dust and debris, laid waste. Wesker hoisted and headed in the direction of the exits when the alarms broadcasted. The hallway was impassable, beating in the digits to unlock but the numbers were presenting an error message.

"Fire detected in Section 6. All personnel use level 3 emergency exit".

Everyone working inside the facility continued to slog. They had received prior notice of the test alarm scheduled for the day.

Wesker tried to bypass the cryptogram using a hack but it wasn't operational. His throat was sweltering where the bug had made contact. What was it for? He didn't want to think about the possibility of being Akira's lab rat, angered, trying another combination when two arms bounded his chest. They were neither soft nor subtle but tough and well-founded. Pure strength pushed him into safety as the leech zombie emerged inches from where he stood. It was growing unstable, out of sheer famine, leeches establishing a loosely human shape to take down the doors. Screeching and punching with fists.

Wesker regarded the new form Akira had selected. Chris was staring at him, his dark eyes replaced with blue crystals and against that dark hair the effect was superior. Wesker had kept his thoughts in check. How did the demon make this discovery? Debating what to do next as Akira tightened his embrace, stubble brushing his neckline, lips curled over his sweating neck. Anticipation increasing tension, Chris's body was rock hard, hands deviously gliding over his shirt to pinpoint his nipples. Akira was an expert in stimulating elicits emotions.

"I prefer this one too. He caught my eye when he visited the jail, standing next to a beautiful golden haired boy, whom he adores. You have good taste in the…gentleman" unbuttoning his collars. A warm tongue scaled the back of his stiff neck. "This is a man's world and it's all so much easier to bear scorn as a man…than as a woman. He taught me well".

Akira was back in the canteen, watching Vergil drizzle the murderous soup to kill the humans as if they were vermin. Her wolf enjoyed inflicting death, observing the tilted lips from where he sat. His stupid brother had no hint. How he loved a man so devoid of mercy. Vergil was dangerous, a drifting tide that could sweep you off your feet and take you to the deepest depths of endless suffering. Akira could personally vouch. The jackal tugged his sexy twin into his arms and slid away the hair net as if it was his God given right. Akira burned with jealousy as Vergil's cheek was kissed. It wasn't fucking fair. Why should the jackal claim love that is forbidden to him? A hard elbow to the side of his head cracked him back to level-headedness. He had nearly crushed Wesker to death in frustration. Sliding down the wall and holding his wringing eardrum.

"Meanie", he sulked.

Wesker was glaring at him in fury when he was struck by the leeches. A circular arm had connected with devastating impact, blowing the air out of his lungs. He held his stomach and spat blood. Akira rushed over before a second arm could connect to his throat to inflict a killing blow. The leeches snapped their teeth and bit into Akira's flesh, growing impatient. He slipped out his tongue and sucked one, the ripples quieting the blood thirsty brood.

"Oh my poor baby is just cranky, coz he's hungry. Yes you are", cuddling the mass of ugly, putrid, blood-sucking worms. His new body riddled with circular lesions which were draining heavily from where their drags had joined. 

"Food is outside the door so be a good boy and open it for mama…I mean daddy". Akira turned to Wesker, "would you like to name him. I really don't want to call him something silly like blob or leech zombie".

Wesker wheezed "I despise Chhrriiiissss and I will see you…dead", unexpressed rage boiling over.

He had miscalculated this demon and didn't want to lose to it. He wasn't used to being put in a condition where he was the one being subjugated. Akira had bought him down from his peddle stool to be scuttling the floors. It was crushing for someone who had an ego as big as his.

"You will pay", he pledged, getting to his feet in pain as the monster slammed the doors.

Akira slipped a finger in his mouth and scrubbed his broad chest with his saliva, "does it frighten you…being so helpless?"

He knew he was in charge, whether Wesker liked it or not.

Wesker trod on his thigh, "you will learn your place", the estimate.

Akira tittered, "shouldn't that be my line", massaging his leg. "You're a softie, really, do you treat him badly too? So he doesn't know your true feelings? I'm interested in your love story. If you tell me yours I will share my…ufff", rolling over in agony.

"Out of my way", Wesker had clipped his balls, more in irritation, then the ongoing mind games.

How could he like Chris…the incommodious and self-righteous fool?

Akira held his manly regions, "yep definitely a softie. I think you're in denial", good-humoured.

He was feeling better having this man for company and this form known as Chris was definitely to his weakness. Touching his muscled body felt really good, provoking Wesker for his irresistible reactions, even better. His novel pet was challenging.

The monster was enraged, hurtling straight at the doors like a charging tank. Some leeches dislodged in the commotion, the scent of human blood making the creatures ravenous with need for refilling liquids. The soldiers readied their guns. They could see the dents amplifying.

"What the…fuck is this…" one of them whispered to the giant who readied his G Launcher.

"Flame round lads", he loaded.

Most of these suckers died the same way, standing strong as the hinges popped. The bashing and thrashing making them clutch their weapons for assurance. They knew no one could have survived the blast. What happened next was a haze. The door flew straight into one soldier whose hands shot the flame round on dying impact. The round connected to another man's body which went up in combustion, his pained screams causing panic. Spiralling arms snared the left over fighters that stood in bewilderment, including their commander-in-chief, the only one who was shelling the bizarre creation, each round punching a hole in the screaming mutation which spawned substitutes, re-engineering and regenerating. It pulled them the way an octopus would, masses of hungry mouths snapping as the bellowing men were ruthlessly drained of their crucial body fluids. They were eaten alive. Akira was smiling as he ambled past Wesker who observed the onslaught unsympathetically.

"Let's get to work" vanishing down the access strip.

Wesker eyed the unfortunate men as they were macerated. There was no other way out. Following Akira, against his will, to find his nude ass stranded next to the elevators, who filled him in coyly.

"It needs your thumbprint to function".

Wesker pressed his thumb to call the elevator, which started to move up to their floor. He could feel the demons eyes peeking at him positively. The elevator rung and they got inside, Akira frustratingly raiding his space, sticking close. Wesker made a point to move away.

"Basement please, I have some unfinished business", the villain requested.

Wesker slammed the button and closed his suit jacket, as the elevator moved, "any opportunity I get. I will end your miserable existence" confidently set on unburdening his objectives.

Akira slipped away cynically, intentionally spreading his legs, stirring his groin, huffing words.

"He really is gorgeous, it's your chance to discover his skin", deviously sliding his fingers into his mouth. "Try and taste him on your lips and decide for yourself what you really need", sighing in pleasure as he suckled the tasty digits, "expose your secrets, Albert". He lowered the moistened fingers to prod his tight interior to loosen their walls.

"I will even prepare myself...for you, since it'll be your first time," halting to define Chris's insides. "So warm, so moist, oh so very fuck-able".

Wesker watched the numbers flashing orange when Akira puffed, "I will never judge you, so why suspend, what your heart is craving?"

"Thump, B-dump...B-dump, I hear it. I hate it…the sound of one's fucking heart", cracked.

Akira could see Vergil being gratified by the two ticks. They make love to him complacently. Their physiques, rippling and rousing, entangled in strewn silk sheets. Akira cannot tell Dante and Nero apart. They slope and bow in mild high's, taking their time to revel in combined milky flesh, cresting orgasms, murmuring his name, with ever-increasing breathes. Limbs tangled, tongues restless, hands binding…eyes impassioned. Waves upon waves, of a yearning ocean, made of skin, gleaming in heat. Akira was haunted by these imaginings and looked-for reprieve, if only the hostile man in front could be toppled by the spur of the moment but he was resilient, plunging two more fingers to reduce his bodies woe. The other hand labouring over his depraved cock which was up-and-coming to deposit some pent up juice. He could see Vergil writhing in beads of wetness, persecuting stare unbendable.

"Pathetic", he tells again as their bodies enclose him, out of his sight.

Akira repeated the lesson intensely, fondling faster and wilder, "pathetic, pathetic...so very...pathetic", crazed. Stranded in a frozen ocean that was everything Vergil, cracking this limitless frost was impossible, trapped under asphyxiating.

Wesker smashed his spaced out head into the mirrors. He had enough of this pointless ongoing display, "you are…simply revolting", words spoken through clenched teeth.

"Fuck me", was Akira's audible complaint, snatching the opening to lick Wesker's hand to come squirting in rapid accelerative lunges, "ahh...haa...hnn" trembling.

"Love...is so...extreme isn't it"?

Beholding down, he had disgraced Wesker's boot with his cum, giggling. "Oops, you got spattered" tittering.

Wesker stepped back, brushing his hand, sickened, as the doors opened to the basement which were swarming with personnel, a few white-coats hurried past without a second glance. Akira was rubbing his fulfilled cock to eject the left over pervert extract, licking the delicious sperm, much to Wesker's repulsion. Feeling recharged.

"So exciting isn't it...I feel like a secret agent...like you. I am…aren't I?"

Opportunely enquiring into Chris's job role and trying his hand at flattery, changing tactics. He had been spending too much time with that weird homo doctor. Evidently Wesker was the tasteful kind. Akira had hoped he had a perverse warped side…clearly not. He would need to espouse a better behaved performance, enacting by dropping to his laps to wipe clean the fuming blonde's shoe of his subjective excrement. Two female staff members chose this wonderful moment to make their weird discovery. Unlike the earlier men they noted the odd trespassers, mouths spreading in astonishment.

Akira met pleasantly, "my, my, what striking fair maidens. Could I interest you ladies in an elevator orgy?"

The women glimpsed the emergency alarms. Wesker kicked Akira's chest. He fell out of the lift shamefully. Waving his empty gun which he plucked from his midriff, making them shrink.

"Open the doors", he indicated slickly.

They acted instantly, pressing in the dials. This area was off-limits, even to him. Umbrella was a hoard of surprises. Wesker's legal contract had come to an end and he had no reason to play nice.

"Move", he nudged them inside. The doors connecting shut.

A long corridor with window panels exposed a number of chambers where colourful trials and experiments were well under way. Lined glasses, beakers and tubes arranged by men dressed in bright yellow contamination gear. Other quarters were darkened compartments where the live specimens, were at this time, put in storage before being dissevered. Akira had fallen behind to stare at the ones he knew. It was a sin scissor. Its translucent cape fluid in movement, controlled ingeniously by killer laser's so it couldn't drift through the walls. It wailed.

They had a superior form right next door. This was a sin scythe. It was spinning its multiple cutters in futile attempts to break the arena of hidden technology, goat mask emerging out of its drifting cloak to meet Akira's stare who smooched the glass and gestured ta-ta. Moving on to peep briskly in the supplementary compartments, a frost knight had entombed its body in ice, healing. They had surgically removed his limb, stationery beezlebubs, unresponsive marionettes, and the more intriguing samples of two moving shadows with maroon eyes. The shadow snarled at him as it took the shape of a purple and black sabre-toothed tiger, rumbling, up and down twitchy and agitated. There were many, many more.

Akira zipped down the corridor to catch up to Wesker who shunted the women as they lead him into the full of activity monitoring rooms. 50 staff members were pasted to their PC's, logging the data entries of all the conduction's. Piles of electronic folders were stockpiled in the shared drives and hard files for when the physical board meetings took place. Wesker was about to talk when Akira cleared past, he was used to dealing with mass murder and would make this very rapid, biting his finger to drop a single black splatter which dripped onto the depressed carpet.

He was summoning the leeches which were still feasting upstairs, clapping his hands to involve his busy audience who swivelled their chairs to view his naked form, staggered, dropping anything in hand, a few of them distinguishing Wesker and standing up in pure shock. He signalled with his gun and they timidly sat back. These were your ordinary folks, the silent majority, that were easily scared and persuaded, a few wobbly hands going under the desks to press the crisis buttons forewarning the military personnel on the other levels about the breach. No signals were sounded, just a soft click on their wristwatches which urged them in the direction of the cellar.

Akira scanned the room in search of a particular face, "Ayden Chase, please stand up", everyone continued desk-bound.

Wesker was sloping over a woman's computer screen as she pushed away in fright. Downloading the information onto his USB stick, in a few clicks he had happily raided Umbrella's entire years' worth of research. A lesser recompense for what they had taken from him. Info was all about being up to date, tickled. Akira peeked at his smiling face. Their eyes met and he grinned sweetly. Wesker had never seen such a sinister smile on Chris's face, turning away.

Akira murmured in disappointment, "where is that ugly slug" the blood splash wasn't moving. Painful hush resulted at the discomforting announcement. "Find me Ayden or else" tending to his six packs, "I'll kill you all".

Low murmurs of panic and dread as they stared at each other. One of the ordinary looking men in his early thirties lost his head and charged towards an empty desk, falling over a rolling chair as others moved out of his way in alarm.

"They only want you!" He grabbed a hold of someone hidden under the table.

Others joined in to help him detain the wanted man, turning from a nice crowd into a throng of enraged animals. When the boy tried to escape, hands turned into fists, pounding him senseless. Akira placed both hands on his hips and slouched to the side in dismay. People really were selfish and brash.

"Did I give you permission to beat the shit out of him, or are you all looking to get fucked?"

Everyone clambered away as Akira loomed. They could feel a murderous aura emitting from his unclothed form. He squatted to ponder the situation. The poor boy lay trodden and bleeding, semi-conscious. His grey shirt ripped, black pants torn. He had lost his black spectacles in the scuffle. This boy was in his mid-twenties, with a mediocre face, dark hair, and plain eyes. Yet Akira hadn't forgotten him. They had met briefly during transportation between labs. Akira lifted his beaten body into his arms, and slapped the man who had instigated the attack, leaving the gathered crowd startled and nearly jumping out of their skins.

"Pen" the demand, "oh, and your lab coat".

The shocked man held his throbbing cheek and clumsily took off his jacket, handing over a pen which had dropped to the ground.

Akira slapped his face again making him whimper "find his glasses".

Cleaning the boys blood the way he had Nero's when he had been cuffed to a chair in a pitch-black lockup. Good days. He had no other reminiscences left, apart from theirs. Like a group of close friends that had vanished. These complicated passions were arcane. Akira would never stop following behind. The boys eyes lethargically undid with effort, lowering.

"Do you recognise me…boy" he fluttered his eyes.

All humans were babies considering he had lived for centuries. The boy wobbled his head. The man he had slapped held out the crushed frames with quivering hands. Akira slipped them onto his mildly puffy face, one-sided, his eyes stared back expressionlessly. It didn't work. Using the pen he wrote the number 309 on Ayden's palm whose eyes fizzled in acknowledgment.

"Abad-don" he babbled.

Akira slit his cheek, parting a cut, seeping a drop of his plasma. It was for the boys protection from the carnage that was about to originate. These humans had constantly mocked his presence and poked fun at him. They would die for it. Akira had met this boy by chance as he had walked in to distribute the paralysing medications and numerous tubing's. Curled in the giant incubator the boy had looked hard at him in awe. When the other men had busied themselves in preparing the drugs this boy had foolishly scribbled something on a yellow post-it note and held it up to him.

"Are you Abaddon"? Focused and fascinated.

Akira had smirked, despite himself, propped into the glass and bowed his head to confirm the boy's findings, learning by heart his face and identification badge. The boy rapidly crumpled the paper. The other men standing behind him had seen the exchange, wound up. This guy was known for being sympathetic towards the specimens.

"Hey, hey…didn't you do your schoolwork; any communication with the samples isn't permitted. So get the fuck out you shrimp".

Ayden stuffed the note in his pants and left as the two workmates chatted. "That creep studied theology so gets stiff when he sees the newest freaks, even this transvestite".

Akira came back to the present-day and glanced at Wesker who was busy viewing the monitor screens. He clunked a switch to show the live footage of the hallways. Soldiers were flooding in. They were outgunned and outnumbered. Akira wasn't rushing to get away, sensing the parasites reappearance. Several people screamed as their bodies were flinched by black tentacles. Raising them into the air as the leeches clustered their newest meal. The place quickly turned into a feeding ground. This thing was out of control. It had tripled in height and width, leeches bursting as they fed to a point of death. The scene resembled a blood-spattered holocaust.

The soldiers broke the windows and fired. It was indiscriminate. Slaughtering the bolting humans caught in the middle, bodies dropping in a hailstorm of gunfire. The leech zombie scurried the wall, moving like a grotesque puddle, straight for them. All fire was directed at this thing which was evolving and acclimating, forming missiles of black liquescent which sprayed and burned the men's armour. When they tried to remove it they were entrapped by a net of living flesh. The thing descended on them, devouring…destroying.

Ayden shook wide-eyed inside Akira's arm as the deafening screams and gunfire halted, silence passed. Death and destruction has a way of paving a path that is unalterable. Pieces of paper caught in the fire, romantically tumbling. Wesker had taken refuge behind a table and beheld the massacre. Checking his pocket to ensure the USB was still in one piece. Akira adjusted the boy's perspiring hair.

"We don't have much time, so let me get to the point. I need you to discharge all the hostages".

Ayden's mouth distorted in misery, deadly insipid and terrified, "I...I didn't do anything to you" he pleaded.

Akira leered and licked his bleeding cheek, "which is why I am assigning you this delightful task. Do this for me and I will honour your safe passage out of here. But if I have to ask you again...I will kill you myself" wiggling his dark brows good-naturedly, leaving the boy scared stiff.

Ayden backed away and checked his injured frame rapidly with shivering fingers. The key card was still clipped to his shirt pocket. He got to his feet hastily and staggered towards the private staff doors, swiping his card to gain access and leaving it open. Akira was inspecting the massive monstrosity feasting on the butchered soldiers, warping, garbling and swelling, the ceiling black and dripping with its gunge. It was becoming an eyesore. Wesker had vanished. Akira wasn't bothered, following the awkward boys trail as he sat down in front of yet another computer screen connected to at least 20 CCTV monitors. All door locks to the seven floors could be accessed from this central point.

Akira took the opportunity to snoop around this part of the building. Five remarkable samples were warehoused here. These were not demons but B.O.W's. Noteworthy as they were, they would be no match for the prodigious trinity of sexy devils. He read their tags on the small information slabs like he was in an exhibition hall. These specimens were inactive in their cubicles, for they were all probable super soldiers who were solely programmed to carry out Umbrella's operations. They had no freewill which made them lacklustre. The Tyrant prototype, the Hunter, Mr X and the Licker were conscious but it was the very last specimen that made him stop in his bored to death trajectory. Spectacularly tall, its purple veins were spiralled about his neck, mutilation scars covering his left eye, outsized teeth wide-open. Akira bared his fangs to impersonate that raw expression and the B.O.W's intelligent eyes flashed into presence.

"STARS…" his deep voice resounded, fingers twitching, precipitously animated.

The nearby monitor representing his vitals, including heartbeats and adrenaline, all enhanced in speed, Akira stepped back smartly. Nemesis recognised Chris, for he had been encoded by Umbrella to hunt this team down. They had become a threat by obstructing their diurnal activities and were led by a known defector…Wesker.

"Beautiful", Akira held and bowed respectfully for the previous wrongdoing.

Nemesis was a manufactured product of Umbrella. Yet unlike his other colleagues, he still had remnants of his human life force intact, making him attractive, with potential. Frolicking back to see how far Ayden had gotten, curling his arms about his squeaky frame, he clicked into a folder marked cameras. The live video footage of each floor was put on show on the larger monitors. It was so superb. Akira burst out laughing. Staff being pierced, bayonetted and speared by rotating and whirling scythes, a few beheading's were ongoing by the frost knight engaged with soldiers as he sprang with his claws, hopping side to side, to avoid gunfire. The marionettes flung and tossed their razor-blades. The shadows scavenged undetected, gouging their game by stabbing with their shape shifting forms. The Beelzebub's were reproducing by feasting on the fallen, inserting their eggs which spurt with live larvae.

"Eugh", Akira stated. It was not a good day to be mortal. Hell on earth had been initiated.

Ayden went limp before the killings, "what…have I done", he sobbed and wept inaudibly.

"Shhh" Akira appeased, clicking into the next folder labelled Nemesis, reading the assignment that was pre-set and hardwired into his intelligence. Clicking the personnel that were being targeted, and stopping on Wesker's grumpy face, scoffing. Needing to click on delete but developing an ingenious plan. Akira had found a second use for his hottest semblance which could prove to be very beneficial. Nemesis was more suited to be his protector then that hideous blob. This was child's play. Removing the boy's spectacles and trying them on.

"Can you assign him to like Stars members?" Slipping them off, eyes twitching "geez, you're really blind", popping them on the crying boys face.

Ayden was mute, almost certainly in shock. Akira shut off the television screens showcasing the vicious deaths and seized his reddened face lightly, "just this additional task and you have my permission to flee." Leaning in and kissing his Virgin lips, boosting. "I know they treated you badly here, why cry for what is irreversible?"

Chris's peaceful voice had warmed the boy and so had his considerate lips. Akira could tell why Wesker was besotted by this man. He could gain ones reliance. Ayden shrunk nervously and did as he was told, amending the directives to modify the specifications. The tubes nursing Nemesis were unrestricted with a pop, the glass sliding down into its prearranged hole. They heard heavy breathing and a loud thump as he flew down from the platform. Akira stared up at him as he advanced, almost 14 foot tall his neck hurt just to run into that cerebral eyeball.

"STARS" Nemesis rumbled, intimidatingly glaring down.

"Hello" Akira wavered.

An uninvited outline slithered behind him and crept above the ceiling. The Licker had been incorrectly unfettered by Ayden who hadn't even sensed the frightening threat directly above. The Licker hissed low, saliva dripping, adhering upside down. Its bleached eyes were sharpened for Akira. The drawn-out tongue wrapped around his gullet, without delay. Nemesis wasn't the only one programmed to execute S.T.A.R.S members. His consignment stayed unchanged.

Akira was exposed. It took all his strength to be able to produce these small droplets of blood which were his real power. Nero had milked this venomous snake dry. Trying to tug the constricting tongue as he was lifted off the floor in a few and far between noose, gagging. Nemesis gripped the Lickers neck and took it down. It's hooked claws ploughing into his flesh as it flipped on its front and scampered the wall, bouncing and leaping to inflict a guillotining swipe. Nemesis jammed it by the throat and splintered its neck, flinging the body into the monitors, shattering, the fuss and odours enticing the attention of the leeches that had completed their banquet, rapidly shifting to gain entry into the doors.

Akira heaved Ayden into safety as he sat glued to his work chair, stunned. The black gooey atrocity decided to assemble a mesh about Nemesis. The leeches were hasty and saw him only as fresh meat. Biting and suckling until his skin was black. They were about to find out just how deadly that T-Virus was and why so many couldn't resist and cope with its strenuous mutations. The bloodsuckers squirmed and spurt, their cells incapable to survive the virus's unpredictability. Rustling at the damage and detaching from the indigestible host, infringing Akira who wrapped up the boy before he could run in fright.

"It can't hurt you", coughing, still mending from the lickers love tongue, only to be proved wrong.

Ayden's body was impaled by a projectile of leeches which had gored a large piece of his intestines and were wedged in his abdominal. They had hit his fragile flesh, like a bullet, blowing him open. He blankly stared at his poor state. Akira watched as the tentacle tapered, taking a portion of his meat to nourish the sightless starving mouths. This thing had disobeyed him, amused, yet his eyes had darkened. He walled what remained of the impaired boy who articulated his last words.

"I...I knew you, you were lying to me" he was in indescribable pain but peculiarly held Akira's hand.

The smiling demon didn't take his eyes away from the monster he had given birth to as it decided to try the Lickers corpse, one bloodsucker chosen to discern, dropping dead, wisdom from its preceding error, progressively snarling at the only obtainable meal inside Akira's hold. Nemesis made a move for the black sludge when he held up a hand.

"No need for you to get filthy, wait for me here, my love" establishing a command.

Nemesis stopped in his tracks, "STARS" he identified. His new obligation was defending this squad not slaughtering them.

Akira remembered to answer the boy's allegations so presented a quiet reply, "if there is one thing I don't do...is lie".

The boy didn't return. He had already died in the arms of someone who had shown him a little sympathy. Somewhere in the darkness Nero's flames had sparked a light. Akira sensed an odd awareness in the middle of his chest. He couldn't tell what it was.

"I just found a name for you" standing up with the dead boy in hand. "Mr Piggy".

Mr Piggy didn't act in response, snarling and screeching.

Akira sauntered straight out of the claustrophobic room. Heading into the passageway and delaying to ensure the gluttonous slob was ensuing. As expected its gloomy outline materialized. Akira whistled a tune and reviewed the signs for the incinerator which was Umbrella's main mode of disposal. Swiping the boy's key card he butted the doors open. The control panels were situated on the outdoor and the joining chamber was the furnace itself arriving inside the stove, placing the dead incentive to the floor. A few leeches were still swarming his entrails. Akira busied both hands to unearth his heart, ingesting it as Mr Piggy made his honourable ingress right above him.

"Don't mind me…it's all yours" he hastily presented, consuming the boys heart hurriedly and leaping out of the area.

Shutting the door with a swipe, as the said nuisance inclined on the carcass. Akira whistled as he reviewed the control panel, no rocket science needed here clicking the red button to activate the machinery. The high temperature in the room was all that altered. Mr Piggy didn't see what was coming…bereavement. The leeches begun to boil and swelter from heats no one was designed to stomach. Wailing intensely, trying to take down the doors but it was no use. Its slimy body going up in hellholes as it squirmed and wriggled, plummeting dead in seconds.

Akira tapped his lips as the computer detected for him if there was any form of life left. Radar blinking from red to green advising it was all clear. Four large tubes straddling the walls chilled the area to average temperature. He strolled in to find well-cooked leftovers. He snatched at the dust and spread it all over his, face, body and hair, looking up to find Wesker observing him through the window panel. The exit clunked shut. Akira strode towards him and relaxed his temple on the windowpane to watch Wesker's subsequent move towards the red button, overoptimistic.

"So slow to catch on", undermining.

"I expected more of a challenge" smiling victoriously.

Akira drew a heart with the blackened ashes and followed up with an arrow, imprinting the middle with a kiss.

"And didn't I tell you Marshmallow is for my health, not yours?"

Wesker wasn't dissuaded, waiting for the moment he could use the amenities as the mechanism recharged.

"You've really become quite an inconvenience for me. I have no further use for you", causal.

Akira positioned both hands on the partition, kissing and sucking the glass as if it was Wesker's face.

"Before you push that button love, let me explain what or who Marshmallow is".

Weskers jawbone clicked, he was listening, making Akira dwindle away to the place in his head where Vergil hovers and dictates.

"You see, he is like my soul mate."

"If I die, so will Marshmallow, discharging the rarest form of poison into your arteries. Try to confiscate him from your gut Albert and that will kill him too".

Cold fingers caressed his nerves as Vergil's exhales shock his ears, excruciatingly awakened, as his ardent lips scrub his skin. He enraptures a simple question that breaks Akira's heart.

"Demons, can love?"

Akira replies "of course Demons can love, more so, then any mortal and hybrid".

Vergil wasn't here to listen but would be finding out the hard way just how much so. Akira wasn't prepared to die until he had fulfilled his purpose.

"So go ahead, if you don't believe me, just press the button and find out for yourself. It's a rather starry-eyed death", flushed.

Wesker gazed in tempest frenzy. Akira had never seen him so mad, tapping the glass quietly not to enrage him any further.

"I would like to come out now and have a surprise to cheer you up" being friendly. The doors flew open and he dashed out hugging Wesker and bracing him off the ground. "Now we can really, truly be friends" letting go before he could receive a panning from the prude, slipping back into the quiet hallway, jolting as red alerts whirled with yet another broadcast.

"Breach detected on all levels. This facility will self-destruct in four minutes".

"All personnel evacuate immediately", the robotic woman wouldn't stop yammering.

Akira knew there would be no survivors. The demons were unlikely to leave anyone active. Crossing paths with a few sprites he had interacted with as they mystifyingly followed behind, unexpectedly loyal to their rescuer. Akira was only interested in Nemesis, heading back to the room to find it empty.

"What the…heck!"

He rambled in dissatisfaction. Deciding against searching for his adopted baby and he couldn't exactly bring Mr Piggy back from the dead. Wesker filed towards him disguising his wariness of the shifting black shadows. He had already seen these demons, so was fearless, but their laughing, jittering and hissing was putting him on edge. Scrubbing past Akira who followed him like a stray dog. He didn't know the way out. By the time they had touched the cable car things had simply turned ludicrous. Many of the physical demons had decided to hitch a ride, comprising of stinky bugs, puppets, and one which beheld some kind of prehistoric reptile. This felt like Monday morning rush-hour with a bunch of low lives. Wesker thumbed the USB stick in his pocket when a Beezlebub whirred beside him, repulsed.

Akira kicked the bug in the rear, finding the needed excuse to seat next to him, observing their reflection in the adjacent glass. They made a nice couple, he and Chris but what Akira could see was only he and Vergil, closing his widened legs reverently. Wesker detected the unfamiliar drive towards restraint. By the time they reached the Church, the blasts and bangs were pulsating beneath their steps. The Priest supervising the sight duplicated the pattern of Jesus, as scythes and sickles riddled his lifeless frame…stuck to the wall.

Wesker was keeping to his unfriendliness. Akira and he had just entered a very complex affiliation and were by no means partners but having enumerated the circumstances he would play along until they had caught the men in question. From there he would find a way to part with this desperado. There had to be a way to crush or even better, adapt his body to that maggot. Hybrid blood could be the remedy? Akira's fingers scoured his neck.

"Thinking of me…" treading on freedom as they vacated the Church. The soft earth and air hammering his lack of restrictions, overfull with joy.

Wesker snubbed, turning his back on him, in grave error, to receive a violent punch to the back of his head which knocked him to the ground. His attacker restrained him. Chris had an immensely robust shape and was sturdier, pinning him easily, one arm wrapping round his neck, knees pressing into his to prevent further struggle.

"Sit still", Akira hissed shoving his face into the rocky surface.

"As you so rightfully said, play time is over and from here on you will…obey me" pushing his cock into Wesker, "or else…my sweet coyote. I will have to…punish you?" Poking a finger through the fabric of his trousers to prod his entrance, "so behave" grinding, oppressing…humiliating, "otherwise..."

Akira was reliving the moment he had savaged Nero but it was the one watching from the bunk with freezing eyes that was making his cock ache in lust, mending.

"I won't lose again" he snarled viciously.

"It's time to choose a side, for what is imminent…the apocalypse", propping on his elbow, mood schizophrenic.

"Oh look, here comes my surprise" giggling.

The vagrant demons that had been unbound didn't quite get to enjoy their independence. The first to die were the sin scythe and scissor whose face masks were devastated, they screamed disappearing into fibrous shards. The Beelzebub's exploded mid-air, green blood squirting. The slow and weak Marionettes subsequent, obliterated before they could propel their blades towards the direction of the reaper, distributing death. The shadows were nimble and managed to flee under the cover of darkness. The lingering frost knight wasn't so privileged, colliding with a rocket before it could protect its body in ice. Nemesis thumped down from the building, he had furnished himself with the required artillery, a modified FIM- 43 Red-eye, stepping on the struggling lizard, killing it.

"STARS!" he thundered.

Akira tittered in Wesker's ear, "meet my new babe, isn't he loveable?"

Wesker seemed unimpressed. Akira wanted a reaction lying down on top of him, "quit sulking am not such a bad guy" rubbing his face mildly coating it in ash, "you will never defeat those devils without me" kissing the place he had struck him. 

"I will be in your care Albert, so please take care of me...your life depends on it, tee-hee". Getting up to receive Nemesis and nuzzling his legs.

"He will help us track them down" patting enthusiastically.

Inquisitive hands inspecting the B.O.W's groin in incredulity, "he doesn't have any...balls or…penis?!"

Overcoming the shock by eyeing the parked Mercedes, "Oh, and do you have a phone…I need to make a few calls" courteously.

Wesker got to his feet and attuned his outfit. This power struggle between them was ongoing and it was only a matter of time before he had the upper hand. The winner of this game would be the one who makes the least blunders. Akira's weakness and flaw was blatantly clear and went by the name of Vergil. This man would be his deliverance to regaining power. Finding him was indisputable. A twisted sneer crept over his jaw. The beginning and the middle didn't matter. It was the endgame which would conquest this war and what a war it was shaping up to be, for both sides were now amassed. In this intricate game of chess, a flutter was enough to induce a hurricane. The real battle between good and evil had only just begun. Which side would triumph was another story in the making?


End file.
